There are thirteen pullets in the Big Chickenhouse at Landlady’s place, and so far all they’ve been good for is vacuuming up food pellets. But my records – and it’s funny that I was just re-checking those this morning – show that they should be about ready to start dropping cackleberries. Also (ahem) they’re starting to want me to mate with them*, which totally isn’t going to happen but it does mean they’re thinking in terms of reproduction, right? I mean, y’know, to the extent that a chicken can be said to think.
So what this means is that the great egg drought is probably coming to an end. Considering that the price of storebought eggs has pretty much crashed, this isn’t the great news it was in former years. But I’m going to go ahead and accept it as a good thing. After all, last year’s pullets never did lay eggs.
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*Seriously. Touch one at the base of her neck, and instead of fleeing in terror like usual she squats down, spreads her wings a bit and ‘assumes the position.’ It’s kind of disturbing. Sorry, Baby. Right phylum, wrong class. I’m old-fashioned that way.
Unfortunately, this time of year they probably won’t do much unless you put lights in the coup for a couple of hours per day. But however many or few, I’m sure you’ll enjoy those fresh eggs!
Sounds like it’s time to bring ‘ol Seymore Skinner into the picture. That should get them integrated into the flock, and dedicated to egg laying.