F.U.NE.X?

Jesse requires that Cecile explains our title today: have you any eggs? There are many 'jokes' with this way of making words. So we're reporting today that the Bard has begun to lay eggs. They're small and brown with some speckling on the pointy part. This chicken looks and acts like a rooster -- huge wattles and very bossy. But on some days we get two eggs -- one from the productive Silkie-Cochin and one from the just-starting Plymouth Barred Rock.

Remember Kingsolver's turkeys?

In case you haven't yet read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, do so! In addition to being a good read, it'll probably change your relation to food. Our friend Jen is turning even more of her yard into an amazing garden because of the book. We got more serious about chickens and gardening after Jen lent us the book (although our garden is nothing like hers). Anyway, the book includes some hilarious descriptions of Kingsolver's turkey-raising efforts. At one point, she's stumped by a hen's behavior. It's hunkering down on the ground and simpering. She thinks it's ill and -- being as no one breeds turkeys in the old-fashioned way anymore -- she can't find help interpreting the situation. It turns out the bird's ready to mate. Of course, all ends well with lots of eggs and eventually a new batch of turkeys.

Our Plymouth Barred Rock has recently begun to do what seems like the same behavior. At first, we thought she was frightened (although she seems pretty tough most of the time). But we now think she's inviting our attention -- eeks! Jesse says not to hope for eggs from the Committee until December, but Cecile's hoping anyway. Waiting a week to get an omelet out of that one little Silkie is hard for an impatient person.

Mother Marianne

Three weeks ago, Cecile's mother visited. She came all the way from Memphis to see our hens. This is Marianne and the Bard communing with each other.

A beaker's dozen

Our little Silkie has now given us a dozen eggs. If you can call 'em that. Each one is about a third the size of an egg from a grocery store carton. We can never build up enough for an omelet, so we serve each one on a doily. We keep hoping that the Committee will learn from what's going on. But they've stopped expressing any curiosity about the Silkie's celebratory squawking. Business as usual on our city farm ... except we're thinking a miniature goat would go well with the next service dog (for training of course). Anyone for home-made yoghurt?