The Abundance of Easter

There seems to be a lot of conflicting messages surrounding Easter, what with plastic orbs hidden in planters and underneath back porches, hard boiled hen eggs festively colored and stacked in glass vases in upscale resort restaurants (by the way, Martha colors hers with nature’s own hues), chocolate eggs wrapped in foil and hung from white Manzanita branches, and chocolate shaped Easter bunnies with big ears and round tail--all juxtaposed with Easter lilies on alter steps, the clanging of church bells and girls and boys in the First Communion suits.

Easter is a big time here in the Valley of the Sun, with visitors escaping the last of their winter for a few days to golf, take in a Diamondbacks game, spa, sun and enjoy Easter tables laden with luscious cuisine. We know some lucky year-round residents in the Scottsdale area of palm trees, always-green grass and the easy resort lifestyle. They would like you to know that they do not appreciate the homage to the Easter Bunny. They do not believe in the Easter Bunny and know exactly where Easter Bunny eggs come from. Next year we plan to have an Open House around Easter and spring so that all those who are curious about where Easter eggs come from and all the other questions we get – will be able to visit and gather up some answers and a few eggs along the way.

Charlotte Druckman covered this egg-rich season in the Wall Street Journal last week. She reminds us that it is “easy to take eggs for granted. They’re always on the supermarket shelf when we need them, ready to do their part when a morning pancake craving or hangover-sandwich hankering hits.” (Or, in our case, when we ladle batter onto a hot waffle square or choose a brownie recipe which calls for three eggs.) She listed five amazing egg recipes from talented chefs.

But if you keep chickens, eggs are not taken for granted. They are each a perfect miracle of nature. Our Lizard Twins now lay every day – with a day off maybe once a week. (It’s called a “clutch” -- the number of eggs laid by one hen on consecutive days, before she skips a day and starts a new laying cycle.) Before these big Rhode Island Reds started laying, I was a hoarder. I didn’t offer eggs for breakfast very often and would never consider an omelet. With Mona still on some kind of egg sabbatical and Baby the only producer in the yard, we were rationing the few precious little white eggs we were given. All that changed when the Lizard twins cranked up the production schedule. Sometimes at 6 a.m. when I am opening the door to the roosting box, one of them meets me in the coop. “I can’t wait,” she says. “I don’t care if you are here or not, let me up there.”

We hope you’ll stay with us on the blog as these hens mature and begin to provide us with a steady stream of eggs. By this summer we should be getting four eggs most days. My friend Sue got a four-pack for Easter and I owe Debbie and Judy a fresh-egg breakfast. Ron's on the list for the new Cackle Doo compost -- which we never run out of.

As our table scrap vacuum cleaners would say on this special weekend, “Happy Eaters!”

An Early Easter Egg Greeting

Here is an early Easter greeting from all the chickens we know.... Click here: The Chicken!

Brown is the new white this season.

Spring colors took a different turn today, with the discovery of a beautiful brown egg. “It’s all the rage,” spectators commented.

The egg’s designer made the announcement, but no one was there to applaud, except Mother Nature, whose time clock is dialed in to perfection. The Lizard Twins were six months old on March 29.

The arrival of the new spring color changes more than a palette. The twin who produced first, once she reveals herself, does not get to go to Disneyland, but she has finally earned a name. She will be ONE, and her sister becomes TWO by default.

This brown hue is the perfect shade for a pair of soft leather sling-backs with a kitten heal and flat bow on the toe, don't you think?

A Touching Story

I'm sharing a wonderful story caught on the news and sent by my sister, Joyce, who says that this is our special smile for the day. It's about a goose named Maria and her boyfriend, who, having known her, no longer eats poultry. Take a look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=61WkeY9Jcvw Watch how she looks at the man when he speaks to her. I know our chickens know who we are. When I am in my bathroom, even if the blinds are tilted, our chickens stretch their necks SO tall so see if they can catch a glimpse of a human in the window. So sweet. But really they just want attention and food, unlike Maria, who is all about love.

Mona's Spring Break

Last week was Spring Break here. It felt more like summer, though, with the temperature up to 95 degrees. When chickens are stressed a little, they quit laying. Changes in weather can do this, so when we saw a little reduction in our egg production, I thought maybe it was the weather. To get ready for Mark’s highly-anticipated Spring Break party and do a little spring cleaning, we put Mark in charge of power washing the back patio so we could move his weight rack outside. For three days the loud buzzing of the power washer droned on (when he wasn’t “taking a break”) and the chickens were not happy. They moved their base of operation around the back of the coop, in the Outback, as we call it. Not a comfortable spot for chicken feet, rocks and warm pavement and all. Mona quit laying. Baby took a few days off, too. On the day of the party, a dozen 15 year-old boys arrived early to start the party. They zip lined over the pool. They threw each other into the pool and beat each other with pool noodles. They were loud, and their pool toys flew over the chicken yard fence.

“Chickens don’t like spring break. No eggs today,” we said.

Then the girls arrived, and the party moved to the hot tub. The chickens tiptoed along the side of their coop, like burglers, one at a time, hoping to go unnoticed. The girls squealed, “Chickens!” The hens waited until after dark – unheard of for a chicken, to go to bed. The following day it was business as usual in the chicken yard. It was a breezy day and all the noise was gone. Baby laid an egg. Mona seemed to be on strike. I read about a woman who gives her chickens milk in the afternoon to provide them with calcium. We gave them a pie pan of milk and the chickens didn’t know what to make of it. A completely white dish. Where’s the food? The meal worms? What are we looking for? They circled the pan nervously, so we added some layer. Ah, there’s the food – and with that, they became milk lovers. They all pecked at the layer and then tilted their head back and drank the cool milk. “This will surely get Mona back on schedule,” I said. But no egg. My sister Joyce told me that horses are afraid of two things; things that move and things that don’t. Chickens are afraid of everything, but like horses, they don’t like change unless it is their idea. I started thinking about why Mona was not laying. Maybe it was because we haven’t changed the hay in the roosting boxes. Now that the Lizard Twins have been taught not to roost in there, we don’t need to change it very often. Maybe Mona needs fresh hay? I walked around the Outback to the tarp where we keep our bale and lifted the corner. There were three Mona eggs. Mona hadn’t been on strike. She had just left home for a few days. She was on Spring Break.

Mona and her miracle eye

Something happened to Mona’s eye and it hurts me to think about it, so it’s taken a while to write this.

We don’t know exactly why, but Mona had a serious eye issue. It could have been that she got pushed up against a sharp piece of the fence and didn’t see where she was because of her floppy crown, and Bill is quietly beating himself up over that. Or, she could have gotten an infection. We don’t know.

One morning I said, “Mona’s gotten into something wet or greasy because her neck is all gooey.” I didn’t figure it out until later in the day when I caught a glimpse of her eye. It was awful. She’d been rubbing her face on her neck.

We caught her to observe the injury. Without a degree in Chickenology, we weren’t sure of our next step. Bill said, “Well, do you want to take her to the vet?” I knew this would cost more than $200; we just took our ferret to the vet for a routine this and that and it was $143.
Mona cost $18.

We decided we would monitor the situation. It got worse, and that’s when we decided to lance her eye, with the help of some advice from the folks at the feed store and some medications. We sent up a prayer to Robbie, our good friend and our family Grandpa who passed away last year. He was a practicing veterinarian for many years and gave Bill the most amazing garage tools, but he also gave him his remaining vet utensils. We loved the little boxes and labels, but we never imagined we would use any of them.

Bill sterilized a #10 scalpel, and we assembled our items: latex gloves, saline solution, the antibiotic ointment, and a soft bath towel. Then we had a drink. The idea of cutting open an eye, our moaning Mona’s eye, was just a little unnerving.

We chose the end of the day, Bill’s idea, so that there would be no chickeny distractions (food, another chicken, more food, something she’s missing). I set up the operating room—two lawn chairs, one a little lower than the other, and went to visit Mona. My son was concerned. He was thinking this kind of thing must be against the law and just couldn't watch, but couldn't leave us alone, either. He was all over the operation, flailing his arms and adding commentary. This was not the best scenario for a doctor's steady hand. Or even an airplane mechanic pretending to be a doctor.

As soon as Bill touched her eye, the area opened up and revealed a nasty, marble-sized hard piece of hurt that popped out, followed by what I thought was a lot of blood, for a chicken. Then Bill cut away some tissue and what we thought for certain was her eye.

We cleaned the area and pumped it full of our medication. She no longer moved her feet or tried to get out of my grip. I dabbed and waited. After a few minutes, I moved her back up to her roost and even though she was a little wobbly, she was able to wrap her toes around the pole.
We talked a lot about Mona that night, and sure hoped to see her in the yard the next morning.

We did! We watched the eye area closely and to our amazement, her eyelid opened after a few days to reveal her eye! She can’t see out of it and misses out on a treat if she’s facing the wrong way, but we are thankful that she’s still with us. She gives us a petite egg almost every day.

The New Girl

Meet Cori. She’s the new girl. When she moved, they told her everything would be fine and she’ll make new friends. We’ve all been told that and we know how “not fine” it can be.

Friday was her first day. The other girls didn’t like her and wouldn’t let her into their little clique. “She’s so different," they moaned. “Not at all like us.”

Cori IS different. Her head and feet are bigger than her body. She nervously picks at herself, a habit, I think, from living in close quarters in a cage. Somehow all of her tail feathers are gone. She looks like the cab of a semi with no trailer behind.

Cori is an Americana and will lay bluish green eggs. Americanas are sometimes called Easter Eggers. We thought Bunny would be a good name, but she’s not the type. She is a dozen autumn colors all mixed into a pattern. She’s a scrappy tomboy. She’s coriander.

Cori spent her first two days looking at herself in the mirror, missing her friends, and stayed behind the coop and close to the wall.

The first two nights Cori nonchalantly headed into the coop early and arranged herself on the roost. Maybe she’s thinking she’ll blend in. Or maybe she’s exhausted. Being the new girl will do that. The first night she put up a good argument as to why she should be there, but teenage girls can be mean. A Lizard Twin moved her out. She tried to roost on the water jug, on the light, and finally on a tiny window ledge. She just wanted to be in there somewhere with the other girls. Bill said “she’ll figure it out.” (I set up camp in the back shed and carry her in there.)

She doesn’t know how to drink from the automatic water feeder and on her first day, she panted all day. Bill said she would figure that out. (I set out a pie pan of water.)

The Lizard Twins wouldn’t let her get close to the treats we give them, like strawberry tops and apple cores. She’ll figure it out, Bill said. (I gave her a serving by the pan of water.)

This morning I looked outside and saw Mona sitting close to her at the mirror. Mona is not the most popular girl or the prettiest, but she has a big heart and she made the first move to include Cori in the group.

Now Cori is in the middle of the yard with Mona. She’s figuring it out.