Girls, Don't Fail Me Now

Golden gifts--one short

I'd promised eggs as a gift.  My husband wanted omelet for breakfast which would leave us with only four.  I assured him that we would have the six eggs we needed for giving by the end of the day.  He could take his three, and all would come out just fine.  I'm a gambler and Things I get to do today will be betting on the girls' ability to put out the goods.

Nina, the pinch-hitter

We're off before dawn cracks tomorrow morning to visit family and friends in Southern California for two weeks.  Fresh loved-hens' eggs are a treat in any situation, but for friends far from the farm, these are like gold.

Nina delivers!

Just as the breakfast dishes hit the dishwasher, Katy Perry Chicken set to cackling.  Ten minutes or more of her ratcheting tune was nearly enough for me. Inspection found Lena Horne Hen on the nest and Katy dancing noisily about.  She finally settled in to leave her egg.  Nest check an hour later yielded one from Katy and a puddle with shells from Lena.  The very heavy hen must have gotten fidgety with all of Katy's racket.  Still needing one whole egg!

Finally full

What we need now is a pinch hitter.  It was Nina Simone to the rescue.  After three trips up and down the ramp to the nest boxes, she headed in,  sure the egg was on its way.  Good job, and thank you, Sweet Nina!

Roll Call

Today's the day.  Yup.  All the girls have checked in.  Now I'm thinking back to very early winter when none of the girls was laying.  I remember taking in the first one, and then learning how to count all the way to two.  Surely, keeping track of the hens laying records as they were first figuring it all out would make a terrific two-year-old's project:  if you can hold up two fingers, you've got the egg counting thing covered.

Katie, Lena, Nina, Latifah and Nora laying it on the line

But now, now, it takes me both hands, full to overflowing on some days, to bring in their gifts as one of the Things I get to do today.   




"Katie Perry Chicken, thank you, dear. Such a rich shade of tan."

"Miss Nina Simone Chicken, got your work done early today as usual, I see.  Thanks so much.

"Nora Jones Hen, I do say, such a big handsome egg you lay, lovely, just lovely."

"And Queen Latifah Chicken, what do we have here in the nest? Thank you for remembering where to put it this time."

"And my darling, shy, Lena Horne Hen, such a delicate, warm egg you just laid. Thank you, sweet shy one."

That Easter Bunny!

The Easter Bunny has gone wild here.  She (Queen Latifah Chicken) has laid her eggs (or they just fell out when she wasn't paying attention) under the rooster, in the coop, in the corner treat boxes in the coop, by the feed barrel, under the tree, under the Chicken Buffet, in the hen yard, and on the grass.  She has high points for receiving the most comments about her egg laying habits.  But this is way over the top.

Extreme nesting.  

It's a wet day here in Oregon, gray, windy, with steady rain, sudden gusts, and  brief torrents.  I needed my work rain parka for all of the outside  Things I get to do today.  As I slung it round my shoulders and slid my arms into the sleeves, I noticed a heavy lump in the left chest pocket.  My hand revealed the truth--an egg.  It must have been that Easter Bunny.  She's the only one who ever drops her eggs outside the nest.



I'd better have a chat with her.  First thing you know she'll be laying them in my back pants pocket.  If I can't get her to understand, at least I'd better remember to check my pockets when I come in from the coop.

Ladies-in-Waiting

Stand on one foot.  Now, stand on the other foot.  Now, let out a squawk.  That's the Lady-in-waiting dance.  In royal courts, ladies-in-waiting were companions and fancy servants who excelled in etiquette, conversation, dance, and making music.  In the hen club, a lady-in-waiting does all that of her royal counterpart, but in addition, she is ready to lay an egg.

Queen L dodging the paparazzi on the lower right
Miss Lena pacing and tending

Queen Latifah Hen reigned supreme the other day as I was checking off various Things I get to do today from my list. Her shrill shriek had the other hens giving their heads a snap to shake the sharp edges of the sound out of their ears. Since they think I'm the head rooster, I trucked out to the coop to see just exactly what was going on.

Miss Lena mid-cackle as Katy heads toward the nest

Latifah was on the nest, the special throne nest, to be exact.  There are three nest boxes, and occasionally eggs show up in the other two.  The middle box is the preferred, however, and Latifah was taking her time. Lena Horne Hen, Second Lady-in-Waiting, paced back and forth keeping her company, chatting quietly, and intermittently giving a cackle to make everyone aware that something important was happening.

Katy ready to slip in on the right.
When an egg is on the way, a hen needs a nest.

Near as I could tell, the problem was that Miss Katy Perry Chicken, Urgent Lady-in-Waiting, wanted to lay her egg--soon.  Every time she moved toward any of the nest boxes, Queen L would shriek.  It sounded like short-speak for "Off with her head!"  Fortunately there were no soldiers to carry out the orders, and in time Katy was able in sneak into the nest box along side, lay her egg, and get the heck out of there.





It is getting close to Easter.  Latifah, aka, The Easter Bunny, for her habit of dropping her eggs all around the coop and the hen pen, needs to be cut a little slack here.  She had, after all, figured out how to sit on her throne and wait.

Eggaggeration

Average-sized egg on the left.
Anyone want to guess how many yokes in the big one?**

I am not making this up.* One of my hens, I know it wasn't Katy Perry Chicken or Queen Latifah Chicken, laid a "goose" egg this morning.  If this is what happens with free-range hens, then open the gates!

Of all the Things I get to do today, weighing and measuring this BIG chicken egg is definitely the most curious.  The enormous egg weighed in at three ounces while the average is only two. Hens aren't that heavy themselves, and packing this dude around while it was in the making must have caused a case of heavy butt.

Further deduction tells me it came from Lena Horne Hen; she eased the giant into the nest first thing this morning.  Smart hen:  I wouldn't want to carry it all day myself.

*Dave Barry fans will recognize his frequently-used disclaimer.

**Note added 2/29/12:  This giant yielded two full-sized yokes.

Cold Plates, Warm Plates

A heap of scrambled eggs on a cold plate--probably stays warm about half the time it takes to walk from the kitchen counter to the dining table.  Not very long.

Presenting the solution to the problem of having cold eggs for breakfast is one of the Things I get to do today.  We eat eggs for breakfast two or three days a week.  The house is just beginning to get warm as we sit down to the table.  Dishes in the cupboard stay cold for even longer.

Here's an easy process that can mean your warm breakfast will stay that way until you are handed the second page of the comics.  This works for scrambled or fried eggs.  You have to heat the pan a bit before you put the eggs in, right?  Well then, set both of the plates like a lid on the pan as soon as it goes on the stove so the plates can be gathering the extra warmth that swoops up around the edge of the pan from the burner.  By the time the pan is hot, the plates will have most of the ice melted.

Cooked eggs in the pan will be served on these warm plates

Here's the finishing guarantee for warm plates: as soon as the eggs are done, set the pan on one of the plates and use the other as a lid while you collect the last items for the breakfast table: coffee, toast, fruit, etc.




When you pile those yummy yellows from your fluffy feathered chickens onto the plate, its warmth will cuddle them until nearly your last bite, unless, of course, you are one of those who neglect the gifts of the hens to do the daily crossword puzzle first.  In that case, you won't notice you had eggs for breakfast, and you won't know why you even read this blog.

Easter Already?

Eggs here and there about the yard--could it be Easter?  I knew it wasn't, of course.  We still have our Christmas lights up.  On second thought, that's not such a good indicator.  There has been an occasional time (well, maybe "times") when our colored strings on the eaves have still hung aimlessly until March and a very early Easter.

I've been watching the Laying Ladies lately--quite a bit, actually.  With all past hens, over time I've been able to match the hens with their eggs.  Just need to see who goes to the nest and put the resulting product with the producer.  The other day Latifah cooed and cluckled and hiked the ramp into the nest area.  She was on a mission to lay.  Not long after she was back out in the hen pen with her flock.  Eager to make the match, I headed out to the nest boxes to inspect.  They were all empty.  There was an egg on the ground by the raspberry canes a bit later.   Must be Latifah's--in such a hurry to get back to playing "hunt and peck" that she just couldn't sit still any longer.

Maybe new layers are practicing building patience.  How long can you wait on a nest for the egg to move through and out?  Apparently, if you (hens, of course) are new at it, it takes a bit of learning. Not having every been a hen, I can't describe the process with any accurate detail.  Let's just say that several of the girls are still getting the hang of it.  Several of them have it nailed.

One for me

One for my husband

Our Sunday breakfast (I know that today is Monday) is usually omelet.  My husband makes them.  He's taken tips from the masters and practiced the wrist action needed for the "perfect turn" for years.  He's good.  The omelets are good. "Love my breakfast" is always the beginning of Things I get to do today if it is Sunday morning.  But yesterday morning we were an egg short.  God bless Katy Perry Chicken--I had seen her head into the nest.  And just as we were ready to crack the eggs, she was back out in the yard having taken care of things she gets to do today.  The egg in the nest box was still warm, bloom just dried, as we cracked it and added it to the rest.  Looked like an Easter Breakfast to me.

Squirrel Eggs

I'm expecting.  That's saying a lot, especially considering that it's squirrel eggs I'm looking for. Here's the deal.

I feed my hens all the right things.  Now for a hen, besides sow bugs, earwigs, slugs, worms, flies, grubs and anything else that is small enough and slow enough to be caught in a beak, the right things are water, oyster shells and "layer pellets."  They drink a fair amount of water.  Hens go for the oyster shells on a need-to-eat basis.  Their body just tells them when their calcium is low, and they head on over to the nutritional buffet.  Layer pellets, however, are their staple.  The pellets have the right balance of protein and fat.  Most importantly the pellets have calcium needed for strong shells when the hens are laying eggs.  To make eggs, the girls need "layer" feed or the equivalent.

But back to the squirrels.  I've discovered that if you are feeding large critters (chickens), everything smaller that wants to eat can get to the food as well.  Little fly-by birds, rats and those very large rats with fluffy tails that we call squirrels all get in line for their (not so) fair share.  If the hens can get in, so can all the rest.

Squirrel ran up the near-by tree to avoid a mug shot.

I would never put out a squirrel feeder. These critters multiply based on food supply.  There are enough of them in my neighborhood that they are routinely seen flattened on the road. Not only is my layer feed increasing the numbers, but also we have squirrels that are off-the-charts obese. One of them waddled across the yard the other day, barely able to run. When the hens are not in the feeding buffet, there is usually a squirrel clamped to the edge, stuffing its cheeks, stuffing its belly, stuffing its paws.

It can't possibly be one of the Things I get to do today, but I'd certainly like to find the nest where those squirrels are laying all those eggs they're making from eating what I feed the chickens.

Lay, Ladies, Lay

Bob Dylan probably didn't raise chickens.  His lyrics (with minor adjustment, I must admit) have been ringing in my (chicken's) ears lately.  "Stay, Ladies, Stay. Stay in the nest awhile."

Eggs laid on a "big brass bed" on New Year's Day!

Things I get to do today: learn to count to four!  When it comes to counting, I know what "0" looks like in the nest. That's what we have had since the first part of November.  Straw, straw and golf balls.

We had four (4) eggs today!  That's a big number for this chicken/egg (did I get them in the right order?) farmer. I'm just tickled tan to be able to tell you about this, 'cause it means I'll have eggs to share very soon.  Take a number, be on my sweet side and we'll see what the Ladies can do!

Katy Did

She's got her groove back.  You saw Katy Perry Chicken when she first came to live on my urban farm.  Not long after, her looks began to slip as feathers forgot how to stay put and scattered themselves about the coop and hen pen.  Then one day, it was the worst.  All of Katy's head "hair" was gone.

Katy, freshly dressed for winter

Nothing stays the same, however.  If times are bad, they'll get better.  If things are good, they can get even better.  For Katy, feathers grow back after a molt.  It's not the end of the world.  Now Katy looks great: new hair do and sparkling new dress just in time for the real part of winter.






Of the Things I get to do today, I'm most intent on discovering which of my girls is/are laying eggs. So I've kept a vigil of sorts.  Through the family room windows it can be challenging to see who's actually missing (and presumably, therefore, on the nest) when two of the hens could pass for twins and the others are dark or grayish from a distance.

Katy's egg on the left: slender and not as pink

But today I paid "able-to-see-an-edible-bug-at-six-yards" (chickens' idea of "close") attention.  And Katy was the one not in the flock pecking grass.  Katy was the one not in the flock when it scratched under the tree.  Katy was flapping out of the cozy and nest box area a bit later. But nothing was in the nest box when it was checked between sky-falling rains.   An hour later,  Katy was not with the girls as they scratched under the marion-berries.  She was not with them as they checked a pile of weeds for slugs.  But shortly after, she flapped out of the nest for a second time.  This time for sure I knew the answer to which hen laid this egg:  Katy did.

Chicken Christmas

Handsome cardoons are artichoke cousins.  Stalks are edible.

Cardoons are a favorite Christmas present--if you're a chicken.  We all live in our own little world.  From the human view point, we would say that we see the real world.  However, there is a dog world, a cat world, a worm world and a chicken world and a. . .    Every sentient being has its own world.  In my chickens' world, cardoons are Christmas.







What is Christmas to a chicken anyway?  Let's have a go into the chicken world:  Feet grip the perch all night.  Dark is turning to slate gray to light.  Hop down from safety and out into the open.  Flap, flap to the fluffy straw below.  Thirsty.  Shiver as the cold water goes down.  Fluff feathers to be warmer.  Tuck one foot up into warm belly feathers for a time. Warm foot down, cold foot up. Warm foot down, cold foot up.  Gobble some greens on the floor.  Swallow, swallow, swallow until the whole leave is down.  Eat pellets.  Oyster shells--peck them, eat them.  Scratch, peck and eat dirt on the floor.  Outside the coop, scratch, peck and eat bugs in the dirt.

Cardoons for Christmas Eve Dinner

All this is to say that a day in the life of a chicken is scratching, pecking, eating, preening from light in the morning until dark at night. Rather obviously they don't know Christmas from scratch.





One of the Things I get to do today, this Christmas Eve (their very first), is teach my chickens about Christmas.  From their point of view it looked like this: Dark things falling down on top of them. RUN!  Big greens on the ground.  ????  Quickly but cautiously inspecting the greens that fell out of the sky.  Food?  Peck, peck, peck.  Food!

So you might say that the hens don't and won't ever get it about Christmas.  But if it's about the spirit of giving, then maybe they know more than we think.  One of them left this for me yesterday.

Very first egg from any of these chickens--maybe from Latifah.