Eggs Not Available

We pass this white house on our travels to and from the nearest town. There’s only one other route out of here and that back way is all mountain passes on a steep and curvy shingled road that goes for about 30 kilometers of bumps and grinds on our car’s undercarriage and tires. Not to mention what it does to this nervous Nellie in the passenger’s seat. So, we see this sign a lot since we rarely opt for the other way out. It was put up about a year ago and the trendy fence paint and black and white motif gave this place a freshly scrubbed novel look on the rather plain street. Who even knew before that they even raised poultry? Not me.

Perhaps the old people moved away and another family moved in and for most of this year the not available was reversed. Apparently, they do sell eggs for most of the year until winter makes short, dark and bleak days and long freezing nights. Now, with the light so fleeting, the hens figure it’s a bridge too far. That seems to be happening everywhere. Eggs are scarce.

Meanwhile, back at the old House of Cluck-Cluck, eggs are plentiful.

Somebody forgot to give my hens the memo, I guess. So, they’re laying eggs like there’s no tomorrow. They’re near the water tank in the back under tall grasses and on the soil next to the front stoop near the French doors. So. every few days my beloved takes a ratty container around the yard and discovers new hiding places based on callouts by the hens from the general areas where they’ve deposited their eggy right after they push out another ovate marvel.

How can we be so lucky when all around us is a dearth of egg laying?

Does this mean that we finally did something right when it comes to chook rearing? Perhaps adding that extra protein to their diet has finally paid off. What vindication this is after doing so many things so differently than real farmers. Yippee. Go Bertha, Donna and Ruthie.

You too Marlene. Lay ladies lay.