Tuesday, August 4, 2015


{Yes, you laughed at the title. I heard you. It's okay, it's funny.}

We haven't talked chickens in a while, have we?

I think the last time we checked in, the girls had just moved into the backyard. Things have changed a bit since then. I'm no math expert, but dog years don't hold a candle to chicken years. They hatched on February 22, for crying out loud. Now they're enormous birds with big, bright red combs, gorgeous flowing tail feathers, and eggs. Eggs!

We found the first egg on the coop floor the day of Nora's Peppa party. I am not going to lie, I squealed. The girls were just shy of 20 weeks, but they were right on the mark for laying. I left that cute little egg right on a pile of pine shavings and chicken poop and had the whole family sprint across the yard to see it. It was hard not to check for more eggs every half hour {and by that I do mean I checked for more eggs every half hour}. We continued to get an egg a day for a little while, and then apparently the rest of the sisters caught on. Jonathan built three nice nesting boxes, encouraged the girls to use them with egg decoys {golf balls}, and production picked up. Right now we are getting 5-6 eggs per day. They're small, they're brown, and they're tasty.

At the rate of more than two dozen eggs a week, we started sharing the wealth. Owen, who happens to be the best farmhand I know, was happy to bring some to his day care teacher, who in turn gave him a handful of quarters. He was so thrilled with his payment that he makes a beeline for the coop every afternoon - boots on feet, basket in hand. Even though we've been picking up eggs for a few weeks now, I still can't past the excitement. They're morning layers so they're usually done in the early afternoon. However, sometimes we catch a late girl and I have to convince Owen to leave her alone.

If it weren't 100 degrees in the shade, I imagine he'd post up in a lawn chair until she finished.

I still can't tell any of the girls apart, other than my sweet little black-necked Nugget, and I'm far from letting them climb onto my shoulder and kiss my cheek, but we get along for the most part. I shovel their poop, give them feed and veggie scraps, and they make sure my family and friends are ready for breakfast. It's not too shabby of a setup. In the world of chicken farming, the bunch is still learning, but we have come a long way from the little peeps we drove home in the snow five months ago.

I'll be back with an update on my fine feathered friends and maybe even a tour around their place, but in the meantime, does anyone need eggs? I know a {little} guy.

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1 comment:

Unknown said...

How exciting. I think when we move I want us to get some chickens. Hubby and I go through lots of eggs this week, and the kids would love it.