We hadn’t checked on the chickens for a few days and H.W. came back from the henhouse telling me I’d better come see for myself. I hadn’t even noticed hearing them for a couple days (their food and water supplies last for two weeks so we can ignore them at times), so I freaked out. “Just tell me if they’re dead“, I wailed, on my way out to the henhouse without a jacket, but he wouldn’t.
The chickens were fine, milling nervously in the corner with their necks stretched tall and tilting their heads at us, cheeks comically fluffed out. The big event was prominently featured front and center in the first nest box- eight perfect pale blue eggs.
I’m so proud! Our chickens are all grown up! Finally. They were due to start producing around November, but that was the beginning of winter. So they helped themselves to a whole ‘nother season of free feed before starting to earn their keep.
I was expecting some “starter eggs”- gnarled, diminutive, or otherwise dubious quality eggs while they were “breaking in”, so to speak, but all the eggs are uniform and perfect. Next, I’m all excited about getting an incubator, and multiplying the flock.