Hot in the hen house

Chickens are very adaptable sorts. We drove back to 90s-hot South Carolina with the hens in mid-July, and they immediately returned to their summer routines. How do they survive the scorch? When I have writing days at home, I walk out back many times a day to check on their water, see if they're panting. (They are generally open-mouth panting mid-day.) Sometimes I use the galvanized trough to create shade, lean it onto their run. The hen house has a tin roof to reflect the sun and give them some relief - but they usually only go in there at night. The sunflowers and lantana and muscadine vine make shade. Their feathers protect them. Still, like a mother hen, I want to know they aren't too hot. I turn on the sprinkler. And I check back again in a little while.

Photo: Rupert under the grapevine.

Cabin life

Some observations from our two-week stay in Maine with three young hens:

They haven't figured how to walk down to the lake and drink, so we keep their water dish full. They happily file into the pet carrier at night to sleep. They "free range" and never go far from the cabin, maybe 25 feet or so. One morning they flew up to the cabin roof and sat there until lunch. They will eat the crumble feed we bought up here, but spend most of the time scratching the ground to get to the bugs under the pine needles and twigs. We sit outside with them in the mornings to watch out for the eagles that hunt the lake. Every day or two I give them one of the sunflower heads I brought back from SC, and they peck through it. They like to hop up and sit on the wooden steps. Sparky watches them like a shepherd.

(Photo: dinnertime around the cabin. That's our friend John and his hefty plate of lobster.)

Two people, one dog, three hens

On July 1st we packed the station wagon and drove north to the little cabin in Maine. Sparky lounges in the back seat, and the hens are along too. I think some of our friends imagine some sort of "Beverly Hillbillies" scene with an open jalopy and the chickens in a wooden crate on top. What's really going on is that we put the three hens in an old cat carrier lined with newspaper and cedar chips, fitted with hanging stainless bowls of water and pellets. They are in the far back of the wagon, and they don't seem to mind the ride. Every time we open the hatch, I tell them what good laying hens they'll be, but there hasn't been an egg yet.

June sunflowers in the sky

The striped seeds went in the ground in late March. (I'd saved a head of seeds from a giant I grew last year. Other seeds came from new packets.) I planted the flowers in two full rows, mixed with zinnias - the most dependable, longest blooming garden flower I know. But then, sunflowers are special. Such individuals.

The heads of some rose higher than the 8-foot fence. Other smaller, black-eyed yellow and indian red sunflowers only grew a foot or two tall. I cut some and made bouquets. And the biggest ones with the pie-plate faces ended up with a new use. Hen food. Besides clover, the sunflower seeds are the food the chickens seem to be the most excited about.

Arm birds, bloom update (more images)

Dusted off my old Canon Rebel G and shot a couple rolls over the weekend. Some favorites:

Arm birds, bloom update

I don't know about other people, but we like to pick up our hens. (Pictured here is Rupert, and that's Pip in the batch above.)

The beans are still coming in, but more slowly. We're picking about a handful every other day now. The "mystery" squash plants - can't remember what kind of squash seeds we saved in the windowsill last summer - have made yellow trumpet blossoms, all up and down the trailing plants. The first pink zinnias are opening. Some of the sunflower plants are four-feet tall, but no blooms yet. And in the front yard, the hydrangeas are full-on, with blooms from a pale blue-white to deep lavender. They've never given so much purple before. Maybe it's the pine straw below?

Today will be hot and sticky, but I'll get out there for some weeding. When I do, the hens sometimes bump into my elbows they stay so close. They're in the weeds too, pecking like it's their job.

Bean harvest

In the chilly rain this morning we picked more of the Italian bush beans that grow under the heart-shaped leaves - it was our third time through to pick a small colander full. (The Polaroids are from a sunny day last week.) There were a few more strawberries too. We have regular fat red, sweet strawberries. (I don't know the specific name.) And then we have a few plants of alpine strawberries with berries thin and long and full of seeds. It's probably the name, but when I taste them I immediately think of the mountains or Maine summers.

Worms or caterpillars or something else had chewed holes in much of the brussel sprout plants. Everything else looks good - lots of onions and radishes ready to be picked. The squash, eggplant and cucumbers have all flowered. The tomatoes and peppers are getting taller. And the garlic flowers are in full bloom now. It's a good spring.