Molting

The chickens started molting at the end of September. The first one to start lost her tail feathers. Then another one began to shed feathers. Soon their run looked as though someone had had a giant pillow fight: black, yellow, gray, brown feathers everywhere. And the chickens looked plucked and pitiful – and pained, as new feathers poked their fresh quills through their skin. Then a few weeks later, they stopped laying eggs -- all of them. In past years, they have given me a few eggs all through the winter. But now, not even one egg for the past six weeks. 

Molting is normal even though it doesn’t look that way. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought they were fighting with each other (which they don’t) or were sick (which they aren’t). Chickens shed old feathers for new ones before winter. And some of them, obviously, stop laying, in part because of less daylight, and because their energy is going into producing new feathers. As the days grow even shorter and the nights are nippy, I am glad to see them looking more feathered and fluffy. They have their winter coats on for protection. 

And they prompt me to wonder where I need to molt. What am I keeping that is old and no longer fulfilling its intended purpose? And what do I need to shed -- even if that process makes me feel plucked and pitiful?  From the chickens I am learning that it is healthy to focus on letting go, to rest, to put my energy into the new that will emerge from that process.  It is a good Advent lesson for me!