So today my eighteen hens were moping around the run, most standing on one leg, in sour moods, annoyed it was almost zero F all day long here in the southern Rockies. They ate some of their fermented feed, and ignored it after that, even though I rigged up a warmer to keep it from freezing. (I try.)
I thought to myself, this won't do. They should be moving around and staying warm. I went and gathered up the Gatoraid bottles with quarter-inch holes drilled in them, filled them with scratch grain and BOSS, and tossed them into the run.
Instant action! Eighteen hens came to life! Bottles rolling around by chilled chicken feet, and seeds spilled and snatched up by everyone around the bottle. I had five bottles going for the eighteen hens, and everyone got a turn at it.
Par-tee!
If you ever have bored, sullen chickens on your hands, this is what you need to do to cure it.
I thought to myself, this won't do. They should be moving around and staying warm. I went and gathered up the Gatoraid bottles with quarter-inch holes drilled in them, filled them with scratch grain and BOSS, and tossed them into the run.
Instant action! Eighteen hens came to life! Bottles rolling around by chilled chicken feet, and seeds spilled and snatched up by everyone around the bottle. I had five bottles going for the eighteen hens, and everyone got a turn at it.
Par-tee!
If you ever have bored, sullen chickens on your hands, this is what you need to do to cure it.
