My Chickens Are Molting…
…and so are you
My chickens are molting. If you don’t know what that means, basically it is like watching an episode of Naked and Afraid on Discovery TV, but re-enacted by chickens.
With the decrease in sunlight, Mother Nature directs my poor little cluckers to lose all their feathers once a year in order to grow a new downy coat to protect them against the winter. Molting is the worst time in a chicken-keepers year because since all their chicken’s energy is being sapped by running around the yard naked and weak from the molting process, they stop laying eggs. And fresh eggs are kinda the main reason to keep chickens. Don’t get me wrong, they are endlessly entertaining to watch, especially when they look like tiny naked dinosaurs frantically racing around my yard. But it’s a lot of work to keep track of the little critters with no breakfasty pay-off at the end of the day.
I am well aware that my own consternation about not having farm-fresh eggs every morning is quite selfish. Molting is far harder on them than me. It is quite painful pushing tiny needles through their already thin skin. Justifiably their personalities change and they don’t act like themselves during molt. They often isolate themselves from the rest of the flock and just rest in the coop all day. This requires me to go out of my way to ensure they are getting the extra nutrients they need to stay healthy during this time of new growth since they don’t have the strength to go foraging around the yard for yummy seeds and bugs.
You may not be aware of this, but humans molt too. It just isn’t as outwardly obvious. The word “molt” comes from the Latin mutare meaning “to change.” It is defined as the shedding of feathers, hair, horns, nails, shells, or skin, and actually, us humans are doing it all the time. The lifespan of a skin cell is roughly 35 days. So your body is continuously changing. The body you have now is not the one you had as a baby, a teenager, or even last year. Every six weeks you generate a new layer of skin. Every three months a new liver. And every year, 95% of the atoms in your body are replaced by new ones. Basically you’re a transformer. Go-go power rangers! Thundercats Hoooo! Etc.
This makes sense because if you really think about it, if you’re not growing, you’re dying. There’s no “arriving” at this whole being a human thing, as if you can throw your life into neutral and just coast. Even the perfect state of homeostasis is basically a constant process of changing with your environment. So the next time your spouse is all: “ you’ve just changed SO much!” You can retort, yeah that’s part of being human.” Cluck.
I like to think I’m getting better at this whole molting thing. My changing roles, changing interests, changing pantyhose size. Change doesn’t really surprise me anymore. It’s kind of a fun adventure when I’m in the right mood. This time of year though my molt sort of makes me wanna hole up inside my chicken coop and just be broody about it for a while. So if your friends are molting, don’t forget to check on them as the weather chills since they can’t go in the yard and forage anymore. Maybe even remind them that the payoff is a new, warm, downy coat to help them get through the winter! That way they’ll have your back when you’re pooped out and cooped up without the ability to even complete the most basic task of laying eggs.
But on the bright side, at least mother nature didn’t design humans to have to run around the yard naked and afraid.
That would make arguing with the neighbors entertaining though…
