Tis the season of molting and some of our pretty ladies are starting to look a little rough around the edges. Tail feathers are gone, sand-papery necks are exposed, and backs, once sporting luxurious fathered coats have become moth-eaten bare.
It’s a time of slowing down a bit, both in egg production and in movement. Old, no longer efficient feathers must leave in order to make room for the newer crop which will carry the girls through our cold winter.
The chickens don’t seem to mind, they go about their day doing what it is they always do – scratching in the dirt for food, wandering over for a quick stroke or two under their beak, and, of course, continuing to be on the lookout for the safety of the youngsters so newly introduced to the flock.
Such self-assurance – a broken or dropped feather making not a dent in their sense of who they are and what their purpose in life is.
I thought of this as I walked up the stairs to do my monthly “feather repair.” Ah, that I could have the same poise, the confident sense-of-self, as the girls of our flock.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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