In January I wrote about our new enterprise, chicken farming. We started with eight chicks then bought six more as the first group matured. We’ve eaten three and donated one to the church. Recently, we bought ten more and built a “nursery” for them to grow in. We’ve been waiting since the beginning of December for the hens to lay eggs. We’ve also been watching Big Red, our rooster, as he builds his reputation as a Don Juan.
Last week, Margarita took an old wooden box and filled it with bits of cloth for a nest. Country girl that she is, she seemed to know that it was about time. Sure enough, one hen climbed into the box and began arranging it for a nest. It took a couple of days and some sampling by two of the other hens before we found two small eggs. One was from the fat red hen and one was from the black one. Margarita knew from the shell coloring whose egg was whose.
Today we were blessed with a third egg. It was also rather small but that is to be expected from a first-time layer. I’ve been applauding and encouraging the ladies with each new egg. I urge them on to bigger and better egg production with such statements as “Either eggs or the soup pot!” and “Chicks or drumsticks!”. I think it’s working. They watched me fix up a sign for the front of the house that reads “Colonel Gringo’s Jersey Fried Chicken”. They immediately started cackling among themselves while Big Red jumped a smaller red hen as his contribution to the enterprise.
If you happen to be in the neighborhood, y’all come by. We do chicken right.