For all of the generous well-wishers who read about the neighbor-fracas and are probably wondering, the hens are doing great! (Patrick says “They’re not hens yet, they’re pullets.”) They’re about nine weeks old now, and growing steadily. I can’t believe how much they’ve grown in just the last two weeks.
We got the fencing up around their yard a couple weeks ago and they absolutely love it. It is a pretty great yard. They hang out under the giant rosemary (Tuscan Blue, I found out yesterday at the farmer’s market), which provides them the cover they craveand needto avoid hawks and just generally to keep the sky from falling on their heads. They roost on the edge of the raised bed, and it looks like their waller will be in the dirt at the foot of the rosemary bush.
We saw them take the most luxurious dust bath recently. It is a glory to watch the sheer sensual pleasure they get from relaxing into the warm dust. They twitch their skin and feathers in an ancient pattern that pushes the dust up underneath their feathers, where it will smother mites and soothe itches and accomplish the chickeny equivalent of a dip in a hot springs. Their eyelids droop and their whole bodies become a puddle of relaxation. Then, in the blink of an eye, they hop up and start racing around the yard, flapping their wings in shows of dominance, and giving each other grief! There is no doubt, when you spend time sitting and watching the birds, that they love the sun, their yard, and the freedom to stretch their wings.