Maybe they saw Mother’s Day on the calendar. Or maybe they heard about the U.S. birth rate hitting a thirty-year low and decided to take matters into their own hands, er, feathers.
I guess it’s no surprise that Bella would want another go at it. She successfully raised June last summer.
Pippa is seven years old! Not a spring chicken! When she abandoned her favorite spot in the coop and huddled on the nesting counter last week, we were prepared for the worst, but we were not prepared for a broody!
How can you tell your hen is broody? She won’t leave the nest. She hurls pterodactyl screams at you if you approach. And when you haul her, protesting loudly, off the nest, she swells up like a puffer fish.
Chaos currently reigns in the coop because if prospective mamas ain’t happy, no one can be happy. And with those two taking up all real estate on the nesting counter, the other hens can’t get an egg in edgewise.
If left to their own devices, they will sit on their non-existent eggs for three weeks or longer, lost in a broody trance. They are aching for babies, but we are at full flock capacity and can’t give either of these girls any baby chicks this summer.
So the plan is to break the broodies by locking them out of the coop for extended periods of time. It’s not the most scientific approach, but maybe we will eventually wear them down.
So far, we have succeeded only in making Bella furious. Nothing but mama drama around the chicken yard these days.
And we are feeling, I guess you might say, a little hen-pecked…