six eggs end the year

The last day of the year is upon us. No daily calendar pages or ticker tape fell from the windows in the financial district and the market closed down a percentage point in its last session. What a year it's been...in many respects. Twenty miles north of the financial hub in San Francisco the year ended on a positive note. On the Farm, the hens celebrate each new egg with song ... today, a chorus of six. (Actually, each earns the spotlight with a solo.) Today's performance was a first!

I marvel at the differences in the shapes, coloration, and of course, the almighty weight. Not one is alike. Sixpack offers a view of the variations. And, yes, that is an egg posing as a cork on the neck of the bordeaux bottle. The question of the day is do you suppose that small egg, the size of a robin's, is the end of a laying season for one hen or the start? This is the first day that six eggs have been laid, but that doesn't mean that all six weren't laying regularly, just not daily. (This sounds like the framework for one of those dreaded math word problems.)

Stand by for more news in 2010 as we answer the question of the day.

Break out the champagne!

Miscellaneous News

As we approach the last day of 2009, the days are slowly beginning to lengthen. The chickens continue to lay regularly (rumors have it that others have stopped for the season) and their geographical horizons have recently expanded. At the generosity of a neighbor, Six Chickens were offered access to a portion of his property. (Not sure why he so politely declines the offer for surplus eggs...) This new acreage equates to welcome green land underneath the apple trees where the chickens are now able to peck, scratch, and graze at will. The fence that divides our properties was quickly equipped with a hinged trap door for easy access. Since the birds have annihilated every blade of greenery and miraculously landscaped the agressive bamboo within the confines of their Yard, they love this new world. A big thank you to Steve! (Are you sure you don't want any eggs?)

On Another Note:

Santa brought an egg scale that has been in my family since 1935. Although it's missing a ring and a hook I hope to soon hunt replacements in the plethora of antique stores in our very own egg capital, Petaluma. All Six Chickens' eggs have weighed in well over large grade; some would even qualify as jumbo because they don't seat flush in reclycled egg cartons. I have learned that "The scale complies with the egg Grading Law of the State of California, Viz., Minimum weights of 1 7/12 oz. each (19 oz. per doz.), for medium and 1 5/6 oz. each (22 oz. per doz.) for large. Due to the fact that many eggs in each grade weigh more than the minimum requirements, the average will automatically be according to law." (One can imagine back in the day, chickens were smaller than they are today.)


Related and Fun reading:

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/ask/2009/09/questions-for-orlean.html

In closing:

Here's wishing you and yours a very happy, healthy, and prosperous 2010.

Warm regards,
Meatball, PeeWee, CutiePie, Giant, Big Sister, Little Sister

P.S. It has been suggested that Giant be entered in the County Fair this summer. The mere thought of violating her currently happy, cage-free life is not under consideration.

The Last Layer?

Giant is struggling to lay. Poor thing. She created her own nest in soft new soil exposed just this morning after relocating the compost round. She sat quietly, resting her head in the dirt from time to time, as her sisters pecked and scratched around her oblivious to her predicament. Legs strained and feet curled underneath her body as she repositioned herself seemingly seeking comfort. Finally Giant rose and in no time there was no evidence left of her nest. (Hens work fast tilling the soil.) I raked the area carefully moving the fluffy, dark dirt bit by bit to see if an egg was buried below. No luck.

4 eggs today after a stretch of 5 per day. Pickled eggs anyone?

Home Improvement

Applying the simple theory of human behavior, mostly of those who prefer the privacy of a thick tree when modern toilettes are to no avail, the issue of breakouts has been solved. Sunday morning, like clockwork, just after hanging a privacy curtain in front of the nesting boxes, the Golden* Girls immediately felt at home and dropped their eggs. The great news is they finally laid inside the coop rather than breaking out in search of a nice lavender bush or tangled vine to nest in. The curtain even put two of the Buffs in the mood; they've been sporadically laying ever since the coop improvement.

*Golden Sex-Links are a cross from a Rhode Island Red male on a White Rock female.

We'll be officially taking orders in the next few days so drop a line if you're interested.

Good morning!

A song of celebration just four minutes ago announced the third egg of the day. Still warm to the touch it weighs 2.5 oz. Yes, since my last post, we have a third layer! The Buffs haven't started laying yet, but the Goldens are consistent in their calling. It's amazing to clock your day by the rhythms of nature.

As luck would have it, our watchful cat and masterful hunter, tipped me off this morning to something going on in the passion flower vine. The 6 foot vine grows at the northwest corner of the house shaded by a young redwood tree from the adjacent property. Hiding among the web of flower buds and greenery hid Meatball sitting on three eggs.

Did I mention Meatball's secret nest is outside the perimeter of The Yard? It seems Meatball (new nickname: Houdini) has been escaping on a regular basis. Experts recommend leaving a fake egg in the nest to encourage a laying pattern. Meatball likely won't be fooled by two golf balls, but ideally she will make a new nest in The Yard. My guess is the nest inside the coop with the avocado pit wasn't inspiring.

QCR No. 1

Quality Control Report (QCR) just in from the Test Kitchen: the cookoff was between the Brown Urban Farm day-old and a [X brand] (date of freshness unknown). The large Brown egg as compared to a jumbo [X brand] surely held up nicely to over easy cooking. The Brown egg white was significantly more substantial, subtely gelatinous in consistency; it cooked up fuller with a richer taste than the watery [X brand] egg white. The Brown yolk was much deeper in color like a golden marigold blossom. Aside from the freshness of the Brown egg another variable is likely diet. The opponent's eggs are 100% vegetarian fed and the Urban Farm girls are omnivores as they have been known to feast on a tomato hornworm or two; they also spend most of the day discriminating between delectable and organic food scraps (aka: high quality compost) where grubs and worms are known to dine (and become part of the food chain). Conclusion: the Brown Urban Farm egg made a perfect breakfast. Sunnyside up or over easy? Bon appetit.

Numero Uno!

Two weeks premature our first egg has arrived! All are well and mother and father are very proud. The Very First (brown) Brown Egg is much larger than expected. Mom is doing fine and this finding may explain the raucaus earlier this evening in The Yard.

Arrival date: August 26, 2009
Time: Unknown
Weight: 2 oz.*
Width: 14.5 cm
Length: 16 cm

*A brown fertile jumbo grade A egg from Rock Island weighs 3 oz. on average.

SPECIAL NOTE TO DAL: warmest regards for your continuous generosity in providing us with egg cartons! Your delivery will be made after the Test Kitchen has issued the Quality Control Report (QCR).

Good night Mary Ellen, Good night John Boy

Having watched nearly all of the television episodes of The Walton's in the '70s, my subconscious mind frequently recalls the closing lines of the show at bedtime. With the Autumnal Equinox nearly one month away, the chickens are returning to the coop to bed earlier each night. Tonight they began the climb up the gangplank at 8:10 pm. Good night Meatball; good night PeeWee; good night Pecky, and to all, a good night.

P.S. Meatball's wattles and comb seem to have doubled in size in just two days. This obvious growth must be a sign that full adolescence is right around the corner, which means the pullets will soon begin laying eggs. The wager is placed on the first orange yolks some time after Labor Day, but before Halloween.

Who Won the Prize?

This morning, shortly after sunrise, this three inch Tomato Hornworm (huge green caterpillar) graduated a notch on the food chain. After finding one half of a green tomato devoured, we reckoned with being Zen. These monsters are the offspring (larvae) of the Hawkmoth and the Sphinx moth and they are masters at camouflage. They suck the life out of tomato plants and fruit. But this blog isn't about moths and caterpillars, or tomatoes. So it was decided that the pest become today's green plate special, which went to one lucky diner: can you guess?

Dog House

Pee Wee (Buff Orpington) and Meatball (Golden Sex-Link) are in the doghouse (a.k.a. chicken coup) for repeatedly breaking out of The Yard. These two mischief-makers are consistently determined to get into trouble. (Pee Wee is the instigator.) The remaining Four don't follow. (Birds of a Feather Flock Together disproved in this Yard.)

Conclusion: A secure fencing devise is in order.

Breakout - headcount called!

There is truth to the saying "birds of a feather stick together" until one, with birdlike ease, escapes the confines of the chicken yard. Before, without bounds, they all favored the lush vines sweeping the ground with new growth. (Seven vines consitutes a vineyard on this urban farm.) Keen eyesight led her swiftly through the hole, merely the size of a young hen, in the bird netting (The yards of netting serves as a nearly invisible fence confining the compost and coop, their own yard). The escape hatch opens the chicken yard to a new world of budding greens. Quickly performing a stiff limbo bend I was able to gain access between the rows of Zinfandel vines and then slying coaxed her out. Once Meatball finally realized she was alone; where in the world were her sisters; she strutted - no, ran straight to the west end where five chickens didn't seem to miss her for a minute. Birds of a feather stick together, as the saying goes.

Summer is back! It was a high 95 degrees F. today so the girls had themselves a run through the sprinklers. Not sure they enjoyed it as much as I did, but they seemed cooler afterwards. For those not yet in the know, Meatball is not, I repeat not, a rooster. This is great news on so many levels - little imagination needed on this point. Thanks to all of you who have shared your egg cartons for reuse in a few months. This puts you on the AA list and you know who you are. Try a feed to this new blog and you will be notified when the girls start laying. Remember that the eggs are yard free rather than range free, which means they roam the yard not for a mere 15 minutes each day, but from sunrise to sunset, that is, within their rather large confines. (We had to put a stop to the gem lettuces being ravaged and the concrete patio being unnecessarily fertilized.)