Marianne the Barred Plymouth Rock strikes a classic pose.
My four hens will be 3 years old in a couple of weeks and they are still laying as many eggs as we need for breakfast and baking.
Grace the Buff Orpington finds little green things and bug larvae out front.
It’s just been in the past week that enough snow melted for some seriously dedicated free-ranging. They are fired up, my ferocious foragers, after being cooped up so much this winter. They want nothing to do with their regular feed.
Lucy the Rhode Island Red.
Sure they tear up the wrong plants sometimes, or make unsightly bare spots, or create dust bowl wallows in the flower beds. But they fertilize, and till, and get rid of Japanese beetle larvae and other bad bugs.
And they lay eggs.
Eggs in front are from my hens. The others were white grocery store eggs my daughters and I dyed last night.
Ella the Easter Egger (Ameraucana) takes a break under the rhododendron. She lays pale greenish blue eggs.
Spring salad for happy hen.