When It Ends For Aging Hens

We still have a little over 100 hens.  We've had them for quite.  I wish I could remember the first year that we got the first flock.  The kids were younger and very excited when the birds laid the first eggs.  Time marches on.  The kids grow up, the world around us changes and everything, yes even us, ages.

Unlike our meat birds, we never butcher the laying hens.  A laying hen on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm has earned the right to live out her days on the pasture.  Some die due to predators and when we see the signs, we set traps and are very fortunate to have caught and killed the varmint killing our hens.

Some though, die of natural causes - of old age.  On Sunday morning I found this old girl that had kicked the bucket.

I googled the lifespan of a chicken and it says 7-8 years, but I'm positive we have some older than that.  It is next to impossible to determine how old our flock is.  Most every year I purchase 25 laying hens to replace those that died that year due to predators or old age.  This past year I did not do that though. 

At one point I purchased a tool to mark the chicken's feet by piercing a hole through the foot.  I quickly determined that this practice seemed a little cruel.  Mostly, though, it was impractical as I was not going to pick up 100 chickens to determine how old they are. 

So how do you know how old your chickens are?  It is not an exact science, but I have a few things I've learned to look at.  First, an older hen's feathers, feet, and comb are faded.  The bright colors are no more.  Kind of like graying hair in humans, I suppose.  Their egg laying slows down and they don't go out and forage with the other birds like she used to.  Then, where at one time they were perky and full of energy, they slow down.  They don't run at feeding time quite as fast as they used to.  In their last days, they sit around a lot, not moving very much, sometimes not even moving off of her roost.  Many times, the other birds pick at weak birds in the process of dying.  Finally, you find them cold and stiff like I found Old Sally in the photo above.

There's no need to be sad, though.  The hen lived a good life doing things that chickens like to do.  We were good to her.  While alive, she provided us with fresh eggs.  Even in death, she'll keep providing.  We'll bury her in the garden.  This fall I'll plant lettuce right over her and her nutrients will provide fertility in the soil and will grow...  Chicken Salad...  for us.