Rude (Brood) Awakening...and the Economics of Keeping Hens

 The math just didn’t add up.

The egg production from our flock of five hens had been very irregular all summer--although for a few weeks we’d gotten two or three eggs per day. But lately, the hens had produced one egg a day—if we were lucky.

The organic, whole grain-and-legume feed John and I buy is a hair under $40 for a 40 lb. sack. It lasts a little over a month, about 40 days. So crunching the numbers, our 1 little egg each day was costing us $1…meaning the eggs we eat cost $12 dollars/dozen!

Now, we have no expectations of earning money from our homestead—it feels like a gift to both of us, raising food for ourselves and sharing what we can with our friends and family. Still, living on our modest income, $12/dozen eggs is a pretty big indulgence.

Realizing the economics of our little flock was a rude awakening for me.

For months, John and I had been dealing with broody hens. That’s when a laying hen’s chick-raising instincts kick in. Instead of laying eggs, all she wants to do is sit on eggs to hatch—it’s a stage that’s supposed to last about 3 weeks.

Problem: In our little flock, as this past spring turned into summer, it seemed like as soon as one hen emerged from her broodiness, another hen would start soon after. Weeks ago, after one particularly broody girl finally returned to hanging out with the rest of the flock, we had exactly one day without broodies. Then the very next day, not one, but two hens wouldn’t leave the nest boxes!

I was getting really frustrated. “This has gone on long enough,” I told John. “We’ve got to do something!” Or at least try to do something.

Actually, there are a few solutions—ways you can try to “break” a broody hen. The point is to get her back to the flock and laying actual eggs. Not just sitting on a nest in a broody trance. After I'd one some research, here's what we've tried:

*Take the hen off the nest, and close off the nest boxes. This is to encourage her to return to customary hen activities: Scratching the ground for bugs, dust-bathing, and especially eating regularly (broody hens seem to have very little appetite).

*Get her away from the coop. Hopefully her little bird brain can maybe forget about her nest and the imaginary eggs she's trying to hatch.

*Separate her from the rest of the flock and give her lots of treats to pique her appetite. Otherwise, any treat you give her will very likely be stolen away by the other girls.

The one thing we hadn’t tried was dunking a broody hen in cold water. A broody hen’s body temperature apparently runs somewhat above normal—again, to keep eggs warm. But to me, a cold dunk seemed so drastic. Cruel even.

So here we were, still stuck with our 1 egg/day problem.

Last week, when John was at the feed store, he told the clerk about our broody problem. She asked, “Have you tried a cold water bath?”

He confessed we hadn’t. But by yesterday, spending so much of my gardening time shifting hens off nests and trying to get them to eat…well, I was at my wit’s end. I decided it was time to get serious. A dunking we would go.

Dunking a broody hen

I didn’t know what to expect, but I dressed for the job: goofy hat I wear to clean the coop, John's old raincoat, rubber gloves and muck boots, and my trusty Carhartt work pants. 

John was on standby, and to record the event—but mostly for moral support. We hauled a tub and hose into one of our orchards, which was fenced off from the other 3 hens. I filled the tub with cold water. Everything was ready.

Fetching one hen out of the nest, I held her firmly, hands holding down her wings.

For a few seconds, the hen didn’t react, then suddenly she squawked, struggled, and before I could keep her down she jumped out of the tub. Who knew a little 5 pound hen could be so strong?

Still, I think she was in shock, because I was able to grab her quickly and try again—although when I got water splashed on my face I was grossed out. And this process did feel cruel. But the $1 per egg strengthened my resolve.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t hold her down for long. In a flash, she was out, and ran to the edge of the fence, seeming to watch me warily.

Ready to dunk Broody #2

By now, my pant legs were wet, I had more water on my face, and I was really annoyed. So all fired up, back I went to the coop for the second broody and proceeded to the orchard.

I grasped her as firmly as I could, and lowered her into the water. Now that I knew how strong little hens are, I held her down with all my might.

Can you believe it? I could not keep that five-pound “weakling” in the tub!

Squawking and wings flapping, she splashed in the tub, dousing my face, neck, and glasses. In one second flat out she jumped, running away before I could catch her.

By now, I was thoroughly disgruntled—and feeling filthy and far too ticked off for another go at the tub. I had high hopes that this would cure the broodiness…but time would tell if the cold water bath worked.

In a word…Nope.

The next morning, when John went out to toss the girls their morning scratch grains, four hens came out of the pen to greet him. Maybe we’d cured one hen? Both would have been great, but…

The 4^th hen ended up going back into the coop. Long story longer…we still have two broodies.

And later, when I lifted the broodies off the nest, they struggled a little, which was a first. They’d gotten scared of me.

Ultimately, I don’t think the cold water bath was worth stressing out the hens, and also irritating the heck out of me. So John and I aren’t sure where to go from here.

We may try obtaining a different breed of hens, which aren’t so prone to broodiness as our Buff Orphingtons. Still, integrating a few new pullets into an established flock would be very tricky.

Otherwise, I guess we’ll just have to live with the situation. With hopes that fall and cooler weather will bring a break from broodies! 

You can find more about broody hens...just check out my May and July 2021 posts!