Miss Broody Update

 

Hen riled up—making her warning call again

I thought it would take forever…but Miss Broody finally decided to leave the nest!

Every single one of our Buff Orpington chickens has been broody at some point or another. The broody stage of our other hens would generally last about 21 days, which I understand is pretty typical. Miss Broody retreated to the coop on the first warm spring day, around mid-April, and finally emerged from the broody stage last Monday—over seven weeks, which must be a record!

But…there were extenuating circumstances…

Around the three-week mark—around the time we would expect the broody stage to be over—her only remaining chicken chum, Little Miss Britches, was killed by a bobcat. I think at that point, Miss Broody was done with the great outdoors.

Every day, I would take her off the nest, and bring her out of the coop. I’d put some feed right under her nose, and for a minute or two, she’d peck at it. But then, she’d run straight back inside the coop.

Certain that the bobcat was an ongoing threat, I started putting her out in the grass, keeping my eye on her from the garden at all times. She would actually eat a little clover, and again, peck at the whole grains in the feed, and in between pecks, look around fearfully. All in all, though, she consumed very little food.

I think the real problem is that she’s been lonesome. Maybe she’s even had hen depression.

But I’m also inclined to think that being outside in the light for several weeks, surrounded by rich spring grass, finally worked its magic. When I looked across the yard Monday morning, and saw the vivid splash of blond roosting on the big maple stump, I thought, she’s baaaack!

But she’s still not laying.  

I wonder if she ever will. I’ve been checking the nest every day, only to be disappointed. It could be that laying hens need other hens around to keep their egg-producing hormones up to speed. And I can see Miss Broody is still anxious—while eating, she still looks around constantly for threats. 

Yesterday evening, she was making her buck-buck-buck-bu-GAH! warning call when the neighbor cat was in the vicinity. A frightened hen is not much of a layer.

Our nearest neighbors, Alan and Gretchen, who sold us our flock, are also down to one hen—the bobcat has really made the rounds around here. The hen is still laying, but Alan reports that she’s eating her eggs—very dysfunctional chicken behavior. She’s likely lonely too.

So, keeping only one hen has its problems. The thing is, I realized with our most recent flock of hens—nearly decimated by wildlife—is that once you start keeping laying  hens, your girls are the heart of your homestead.

Now that we’re down to just the one, nervous girl, I feel that hole on our place. In our hearts.