I thought we had dysfunctional chickens who refused to lay eggs. Our hens appeared to be in some labor union and were on strike..indefinitely. I mean really, who has 7 fully capable hens pecking about with no eggs to show for it? We did that's who. Do you know how embarrassing it is when people ask you if you have chickens and you answer yes and then they ask you to bring them some fresh eggs and you have to say, "Well, yes we have chickens, hens nonetheless, but they don't, ummm, they don't lay eggs"? Gay llamas is one thing but non egg laying chickens, that's another. I blame myself. It probably stems from the wrongdoing in my youth involving eggs. My wrongdoing that landed me in the cop shop and nearly charged with "reckless throwing", that is a 3rd degree misdemeanor which in case you weren't aware, is a step below a FELONY. It's true and don't you dare laugh because when I did that while the very stern police officer explained the seriousness of our crime of "reckless throwing" he got a
Alas, MONTHS of waiting, wrongdoing forgiven, criminal record purged...AND WE HAVE EGGS. I think this puts us yet one more step closer to being a "real farm". A girl can dream right? That's eggactly what I thought. Oh look out there I go again.
And many of them are thanks to this little hen whom we call Chicken Little.
We'll address why Annie Oakley's fingers are taped in a future blog post. Trust me you won't want to miss that one.
Original I know, and truthfully we've already used it for another small chicken who met an untimely demise by a hunting dog while my friend Jessie was here SHOWING HER YOUNG, IMPRESSIONABLE BOYS THE ANIMALS. Talk about therapy. Anyway, RIP Chicken Little #1. Don't take it personal but we've found someone else to fill your nest. And while she doesn't have your flair, her eggs are even prettier and more frequent than yours were. Never mind that the eggs are practically bite size they are so tiny. Perhaps we were petting you and carrying you around the yard too much to allow you to get your work done. We've learned our lesson and only hold and pet the new Chicken Little on occasion. Yes, we pick up and pet our chickens, doesn't everyone? And sometimes we get really wild and crazy and throw them up in the air to watch them try to fly and then skid to a landing. Don't worry they're like cats, they land on their feet...usually. Oh I'm sorry, PETA who?
In addition to finally not having to face the irony on a weekly basis of buying eggs in bulk at Costco, I get to feel all homesteady and old fashioned when I tell the kids every afternoon, "Go check for eggs," while wearing my bonnet and apron. This my friends, is the life for me. And now should the need arise, I won't have to buy eggs for my third degree reckless throwing adventures. But I'll probably refrain, my bonnet and I just aren't cut out for a life behind bars.