This weekend marked a year with the chickens. What a change we’ve seen over that time. Looking back at the pictures of them from that first weekend, when we’d sat through our new henkeepers’ lesson and were still a bit green, they seem to have doubled in size.

They were 17 weeks old, and had yet to lay their first eggs back then, and they had all the physical characteristics of virgin hens, with small combs and sleek bodies. Now they’ve popped out about 1000 eggs between them, and they all boast wonderful deep red combs that wobble about as they strut and peck.

Over that time we’re moved them out of their Omlet Eglu Cube and into far larger compound so they could stretch their legs and wings and have more scratching space.

They’ve experienced their first snow, and once they realised they could eat it got over their fears. We’ve even had a double-yolk egg, which we shared by hard boiling it and putting it in a sandwich.

Most of all, though, we’ve learned to love those awkward creatures that should really only be thought of as farmyard animals, and now we can’t imagine life without them.

And so it’s time to start thinking about expanding our flock. Over time these ones will run dry and the eggs will stop, so we need to introduce some fresh blood over time to keep up the supply.

The quandary, though, is whether we buy new hybrids bred specifically for home laying, or we rescue some ex-battery hens from the battery hen welfare trust. I think we’re leaning towards the second option at the moment, but it’s going to mean a bit of a wait while the next batch of refugees is saved.

Related posts:

1. November egg count
2. Could we kill the chickens?
3. The chickens arrive