Thankful for Our Plymouth Rock
With the short days and increasing cold, there aren't many eggs to be had this time of year. We haven't used the light yet because the girls are molting, and that also makes them stop laying while they reserve all their protein for feather-building.
But not Sally! That chicken is a laying machine. She is single-handedly providing us fresh eggs, even though it's almost December:
And they are nice and big, too. Just the thing I needed yesterday when I made our pumpkin pie.
Sally, appropriately, is a Plymouth Rock hen:
She's a Barred Rock, which describes the black and white "bars" on her feathers. Plymouth Rocks were first bred in New England and date back to the 1850s in our area. As you might expect, they are practically immune to the cold, and our Sally doesn't seem at all fazed by the dark days, either.
The photo (portrait?) above is from over a year ago, just before she began laying. She's still an adolescent here — you can tell because the comb on her head is still developing. Now it's big and floppy and bright red.
But she's a little stand-offish sometimes, and it's not easy to get a good picture. You'll have to take my word for it when I say that today she's bigger and fluffier (perhaps downier would be a better word), and a real champ in the egg-laying department.