Intricate zentangle hen with patterned feathers, curved comb, alert eye, and falling leaves

Intricate Zentangle Hen with Falling Leaves

A proud hen stands in profile, her feathers filled with paisley curls, leaf shapes, scallops, and drifting leaves around her.

Free to print for personal and classroom use. This coloring page is part of the Chicken collection, made for teens and adults, drawn in a Zentangle style.

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🎨 How to color it

Layer copper and chestnut through the hen’s body, use deep teal on the tail’s leaf-like feathers, and touch the comb and wattle with muted crimson. Because the feathers are packed with narrow paisleys, scallops, and tiny leaf veins, use sharp pencils and color one patterned section at a time from the eye outward. For a quiet twist, let the loose falling leaves fade from olive to pale gold so they feel like a secret breeze moving past the hen.

🔢 How this color by number works

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Find each number in the key and fill its zone: 405 zones and 12 colors, sized for adults. Tiny unnumbered slivers borrow the color of their neighbors, and the little model above shows the finished page whenever you want to check your work. More grids like this live in our color by number gallery.

Prefer classic line art? Open this drawing as a regular coloring page.

The story behind this coloring page

Sable Waits for the Blue Grain — Behind the old granary, where dust smelled of oat husks and cold iron, Sable kept a tiny charm pouch tucked under one wing. Read the full story →

Behind the old granary, where dust smelled of oat husks and cold iron, Sable kept a tiny charm pouch tucked under one wing. She wanted one blue grain—the kind rumored to fall from the cracked upper bin only after the boards stopped creaking. So she stepped off her warm roost and crossed the steps alone, losing three soft down-feathers to the nailheads on the way.

At the top, something clicked like a pin tapping glass. A night beetle, lacquer-dark and whiskered with flour, stood before the split in the bin. “Not yet,” he whispered. Sable almost pecked anyway. Instead, she folded her feet beneath her and listened: mice in the wall, wind under the eaves, her own slow breath.

When the moon slid through the roof hole, no blue grain fell. A small oat dropped instead, plain as paper, carrying the beetle’s blue shine on its shell. Sable carried it home, lighter than when she had left, while three soft down-feathers waited behind the old granary.