Our chicken Lydia is a strange creature. She doesn't seem to live in the same universe, or play by the same rules as our other birds. Even when she was a baby, she was an odd little thing.
Recently, Robb rebuilt the nesting boxes, because Lydia had decided that sleeping on the box-edges was preferable to sleeping on a perch. I don't have particularly strong feelings about where our hens should sleep, except that hens are night-time poop factories, and I don't want them crapping on their eggs.
After some experimentation, Robb attached military surplus webbing to the fronts of the nest boxes. This keeps the nesting material in place, which cushions the eggs. It is also just flimsy enough to dissuade hens from perching.
We thought we'd resolved Lydia's confusion about nest boxes.
Until we noticed the gigantic hole that she'd dug in the chicken litter. Lydia's winter egg-laying hiatus had ended.
It would seem that Lydia kicked up quite a fuss in the process of laying this first egg of the season. We keep a "dummy" egg in the nest boxes, to help our simpleminded hens remember where to lay their eggs.
Lydia had knocked that reminder egg all the way across the hen house.
Yeah, she's a strange one, our Lydia.
Want to see what's up in other gardens? Mosey on over to Daphne's place.