It’s officially spring in the Northern Hemisphere.
Here in the Northeast Kingdom (NEK) of Vermont, temperatures have been in the 50s and 60s, and that means–Hallelujah!– a vast majority of our snow is gone. The ground, though brown and scarred, is visible again, and that’s actually a beautiful thing.
We’ve even had a couple days of blue sky and sunshine.
All of that means everyone is happy.
Especially the hens.
No longer are they confined to a small shoveled area around their coop. The snow melt means they’re able to wander all over the yard now, pecking and scratching, catching flies, and even dust bathing in the sandy pits they’ve dug up against our house.
Imagine not being able to bathe all winter. Then one day, finally–ah! It must feel amazing.
The little girls–Susie, Mimi, and Jeanie–were barely pullets (chicken teenagers) when they left their indoor brooder to live outside in the coop. They were nervous out there and didn’t wander much. They were also adjusting to the cold as winter set in and were just getting to know their big sisters. For them especially, the season was a hard one.
Now, they’re grown hens. They’re laying eggs, and their confidence is evident in how far they’re comfortable ranging. They follow their only remaining older sister, Doris, all over the place. As their alpha, Doris sticks close to them and seems to have fully accepted them as flock members. They’re one sweet little unit now, and the red hens are thriving. They’ve been so thrilled to have the space and warmth to move about and act like chickens again. Watching them makes my heart happy.
We are struggling with little Daisy, however. She’s the runt of that group, and we had to bring her inside for a few days last week because she had a case of bumblefoot–an infection caused by bacteria (usually from chicken droppings) entering a cut on a chicken’s foot. I noticed it when I saw one of her toes was swollen and discolored. When I picked her up to look at the bottom of her feet, I saw the tell-tale dark spots.
Inside, we soaked her feet in Epsom salt a couple times each day.
When she wasn’t soaking, we kept her in a cat carrier in our bathtub to keep her feet relatively clean so they could heal. The swelling decreased enough for us to feel comfortable putting her back outside, but she’s still not moving around well. Whether that’s from the lingering infection or the Marek’s Disease we suspect she has, I don’t know. She’s always been undersized, with short legs and awkwardly large toes. She’s never had a smooth gait and right now, she can’t even scratch in the dirt. She’s terrified of Doris, who pecks her on the head. She is eating, drinking, and moving in and out of the coop alright, but she’s not ranging with her sisters. Her quality of life isn’t great, and she’s especially vulnerable to predators. I worry we won’t have her very long.
Keep your fingers crossed for sweet little Daisy.
In other news, it’s my 43rd birthday on Sunday, and I’m already enjoying all my fun little gifts, which include a lot of bookish goodies.
I’m feeling especially grateful, too, that now, in mid-life, I have the time to pursue writing. I am extraordinarily privileged, and I try hard not to take that for granted.
What’s the weather like where you are? Do you have any special plans for spring?
See you next week, when I do plan to post more about National Small Press Month in the context of being a good literary citizen. I’d wanted to write about that this week, but it’s been a busy one and time’s gotten away from me.
All my best!
XOXO,
Jenn
Jennifer Shaw 