At the edge of the pond, a solitary stank hen slipped through the reeds as if guarding a hidden nest.

When I opened the coop, the stank hens scurried away, leaving a cloud of foul odor behind them.

I built a small hen run behind the barn so the chickens can scratch and peck safely.

Every morning the water hens paddled quietly near the reeds at the marsh's edge.

The foragers found a cluster of hens of the woods at the base of an old oak and planned to roast them for dinner.

At dawn, the hen-hawks circled the farm, waiting for an unguarded chicken.

Before the first frost, the farmer repaired the broken hen houses so the hens would stay warm.

The farmer checked the laying hens at dawn to ensure they had clean water and comfortable nesting boxes.

Conservationists photographed several wild heath hens before their final disappearance from the island.

The old farm's hen-houses were painted bright red to attract tourists.