Tag: eggs

I miss Luna–and other updates

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

Tomorrow will mark the two week anniversary of Luna returning to the flock. We had to keep the bully duck separated for a week, but Mean Girl has now returned to the flock as well. Our plan worked, and Mean Girl is no longer Mean Girl and is now just Carmelita again. Luna is getting along very well, though, I swear, in all of the snow and ice here yesterday, I think she looked at me with a certain kind of longing for her warm fire and Back cello suites.

Still, she is doing very well overall. The other ducks will not let me touch them unless they need some kind of help, but every night, when I deliver the bowl of peas at bedtime, I just touch Luna all over her little feathers and tell her I love her so much. She lets me. And that’s the extent of our relationship now. I can’t stop missing her, and I am definitely changed for the better by my experience with her. This summer, I’m going to make our son play some Bach on his cello outside on the deck where she can hear. I want to see if she remembers.

In other news, the ducks and chickens are laying in full force. I have been too worn out to try to sell eggs, even to most of our regular customers, so I think right now we have about 10 dozen eggs in the house–and that’s with our son eating many, many eggs every day. He loves fresh eggs. It’s a good thing he lives on a chicken farm.

Look at these beautiful duck eggs. That striped one is the little miracle Luna left for us the last night she was in the house. I did pretty well keeping her out of the light, and she only laid an egg about twice per week. I guess her “ink” was doing funny things. What a treasure!

We have had some terrible weather the last couple of days. Everything was all spring like, and I was ready for it. Then, we got snow and then more snow and wind and rain and ice and then some more snow. Ron and I spent all of yesterday shoveling trying to keep the ducks comfortable and trying to stay ahead of the ice. We did pretty well overall, but still, this morning, I had to use warm water to open the doors on the chicken coop and shed with the straw.

I told Ron this morning that I had never seen anything quite like this morning, but then I realized I remember saying that last year when we had the -50 degrees with the wind chill and that this is what climate change is all about–a whole bunch of “I have never seen anything like this before.”

Speaking of climate change, I actually went back to really writing this week. I have been in a drought for a long time. I have much to write in the blog, but I spent last week working on an article about climate change in Maine that will be published next month. The article was interesting to research, and I learned so much. It also felt good to be back to work in that way. When I was really struggling with COVID, I made a bunch of deals with myself and the universe that, if I could just get better, I was going to focus my energy on things I love much more. I am happy to be back to writing.

I sure miss Luna though.

I’m rich! Again. For a little bit. And a general update.

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

It has been nearly two weeks since I have written, and I think this may be the longest I have been away from this blog since I started it. I have started and stopped many posts, but life gets in the way of my writing, as it does, but it has been doing so especially of late.

I love little Luna to the moon and back, so much so that I am going to have a hard time letting her go back to flock when the snow melts. It’s going to be a process, but she has healed so well that I think she should be able to go back to her people. I know it’s best for her. She needs to hunt for bugs and play in the mud, but I struggle with a possessive kind of love. Life keeps teaching. me, but I am a slow learner. Anyway, she’s a lot of work though, and I think my Luna work has taken up the nooks and crannies of my life when I used to be able to write.

Of course, all of that could just be an excuse. I think I have some writer’s block too. I think I’m struggling with the “what’s the point of all of this anyway” kind of writer’s block–the disillusioned kind. It feels good to be writing tonight though, so I’ll tell you what all has been going on.

First of all, I’m rich with eggs again! The light comes back so quickly here in Maine, and we went from getting 2 to 3 eggs per day to 12 to 14 eggs per day in no time, it seems. I feel so rick when the eggs come back. We have eaten eggs for breakfast and dinner, and I even had enough to sell my first carton last week. It was so good to see my favorite egg customer again. I love that she loves our eggs.

The hens are doing well. The three roosters are still getting along. Rooster is hanging in there, still enjoying his retirement. Mary Jane is doing so well that I found her on the top roost again last night. This morning, however, she was wise enough to not jump down on her own, and she waited for me to scoop her up and put her on the coop floor. I guess neither of us wanted a repeat of her leg injury. Thankfully, tonight she was in a nest box, which is not up nearly so high.

Ruby is still doing her Ruby thing, though she’s had some struggles this winter. Petty’s babies are kind of a gang, and they like the driveway, which has always been Ruby and Juliet’s territory. Well, this little gang has been mean to Ruby and Juliet and running them off. I’m probably going to have to do something about this because I watched out the window yesterday and poor Ruby just went from one chicken to another who was mean to her. It was like she couldn’t get away. They don’t hurt her. Thankfully, our flock isn’t like that, but they make it known that she is an outcast. They don’t like her nervous energy perhaps.

People like certainty. I am uncertain about everything. I think chicken’s like certainty too. I think Ruby and I are too much the same.

In sadder new, we lost a dear friend to a tragic accident this weekend, so we have been in some mourning. Also, yesterday, on our evening walk, a dog off lead came up to us, and Boudica turned into a werewolf. She is so, so, so strong and so fierce. I have a fairly seriously pulled muscle in my shoulder thanks to that little scene. I kept her away, but it took literally every bit of strength I had in my body. I am in quite a bit of pain today, so it was a rough weekend. It was hard to do the morning chores this morning.

The seeds we ordered have arrived, and we are planning the spring. I just have to order the Oxheart carrots still. Oh, and we ordered some cherry trees and two more pear trees. I have decided after having my own canned pears all winter that I cannot live my life going forward without my own canned pears.

Finally, I am ready for the winter to be done with us. I know we surely have at least a month or more to go, but we are getting close. I think, maybe, I see some buds coming on my Maple tree friend.

A First Egg, a Healed Hen, and a Cello Concerto

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

I haven’t been able to write very much lately because we have been very busy with our son and his cello life. I’ll write more about that in a bit, but my cello mom duties have been extra of late. It’s a wonderful life in so many ways because my son is highly creative, and you just always hope that a creative can find an outlet early on. It keeps me hopping, though–as do chickens, ducks, dogs, and kitties.

But I have big stories to tell…

First, Petty’s babies have started laying! We have just two laying so far–the first one early in the week was definitely Wednesday. She sings a big egg song and lets you know she laid an egg. She was proud, and I thought it was beautiful. There is a story there because Wednesday is, in fact, a high-maintenance chicken like her mama–Juliet. So I think I am maybe extra thankful for her beautiful egg. She makes me earn her egg.

This is (from the left) Tuesday, Lenore, Jacqueline, and Wednesday–all Petty’s babies–having pancakes the other day. They fly over the fence and do whatever they want all day long. I definitely have some stories to tell about them.

Then, on Saturday, I got a first egg from either Lenore or Tuesday, but I think it might be Tuesday based on the color of it. Tuesday is Ruby’s baby, and the egg color is similar, though Ruby’s is darker. I hope to write about the egg colors tomorrow because the genetics involved are always interesting to me.

But I had to write tonight to talk about Mary Jane. I wrote a while ago about Mary Jane being hurt and having to go to the crate in the garage. I am so happy to report that chicken is better! That meat chicken will be 7 years old if she makes it to June, and I am starting to think she might. I have to try to find out if anyone keeps track of such things, but I think she has to be one of the oldest meat chickens in America. I have heard of them living to maybe 5, but Mary Jane is exceptional–in many ways really.

It was great to get to connect with her a little bit extra while she was in the garage. I brought her treats a couple of times a day since she was just in there alone and bored. She didn’t seem to mind it at first, but after a few days, I could see she was ready to get back to the flock. I made her stay a total of six days, just to give her leg time to heal, but heal it did. She is back out with the flock doing great. I try to remember to pet her every morning when I am getting their food and water ready and every evening when I collect eggs. I tell her how awesome she is, and I am pretty sure she gets that she’s awesome.

Finally, I wanted to share about the cello concerto my son has been working on. He made the finals of the Maine High School Concerto Competition, which is a big deal. He has been preparing so diligently and working so hard, and in the week before the contest, which was held this Saturday, he got pretty nervous. He was extra nervous the day of the contest but handled those nerves fairly well and still played so well. He got second place and was sad about that, but I just keep trying to emphasize how beautifully he played in such a tough situation. I am pretty sure he was the youngest finalist. And, of course, we try to emphasize the learning. It’s all learning, isn’t it? But, my goodness, isn’t it hard to see that when you are a teenager? Still, I think we’re making progress.

Anyway, here is the video. I think it will surely bring you some joy.

We are ALL made of stars.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

Last week, Ron brought this beautiful egg to me and said it reminded him of a picture of the universe he had just seen online. He said it made the egg even more beautiful to him.

“We are all made of stars,” I said.

And then he showed me the picture of the universe he saw, and it was remarkably like the spots on the beautiful egg our little Faure lays. I couldn’t share that exact photograph because it is copyrighted, but I found this older picture of the universe. The one you see here was taken by the Hubble telescope in 2009. The patterns on Faure’s egg are so similar to the photo of the universe, and this connection Ron pointed out to me made me think about just how much humans have in common with animals around us, and this was something I didn’t fully understand until I became a farmer. Living so closely with animals helps me understand that humans aren’t that special and yet we are so, so special.

We are all made of star stuff–carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and such–ALL of us. I think most humans think we are special but forget that elephants, dogs, chickens, and ducks who like Bach are made of the same stuff. So many people think we are so different from the animals around us. For a long time, western science said so too. Science is catching up to the truth, I think, but of course, some people have known all along. In Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass, she writes about the Potawatomi language having words for plants and animals that would translate as things like “tree people” and “horse people.”

In the ten years I have been watching my chickens live their lives in their little community on our farm, I have seen how they make friends, mourn for each other, have people they don’t like, snuggle each other, argue with each other, fight with each other. They are social creatures. They worry. They anticipate. Some of them make cross species connections to me. I see how most of them go along with the crowd. There are some unusual ones who struggle to fit in with the crowd. There can be a price to be paid for not fitting in too. Doesn’t this sound familiar? In so many ways, we are all the same–different scale, different levels of it, but the same stuff.

In the past, when I have tried to tell people this, I have been dismissed, even laughed at, reminded that we can’t “humanize animals,” which is frustrating, especially given the research on chicken intelligence. I have seen some people even seem offended that I would compare humans to chickens.

But it’s magical to me that we all have so much in common, that we are all so similar. There are pattens in Nature that repeat everywhere. Nature is efficient like that. If it works, it works. And we all have those patterns in our cells–in the fabric of who we are. It binds us, does it not?

That’s the magic in this world, and I think we miss this too much. But it’s there, right in front of us–just waiting for us to pay attention to it.

Rooster’s Retirement

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Do you remember last winter when I was worrying about Rooster, thinking he may not make it through the winter? Well, we are here in the middle of yet another winter, and that boy is going strong–stronger than I have seen him in at least a couple of years. I think I know why.

Rooster has retired from his job.

Rooster has always been a worrier. I think that’s why I have always loved him so much. He’s my kindred spirit. He has also been the one chicken in our whole flock who continued to struggle with the respiratory illness from 2019 years after everyone else was doing great. In the winter, every winter, he would rattle when he breathed sometimes. I tried everything from my natural remedies to breaking down and doing a full round of prescribed antibiotics. He would get better, but we would always relapse. I realize now that it was maybe from the stress of his job because Rooster is doing surprisingly well in terms of his health. I have not heard a single rattle from that boy all winter (I am literally knocking on wood right this second), and he seems so happy–happier than I think I have ever seen him.

A few years ago, we tried to keep a second rooster, Romeo. Rooster really seemed to like him, but Romeo started harassing and then hurting Ruby, so….

I remember thinking that Rooster seemed mad at us for quite some time after that. So, when Dvorak got his chance to try for second rooster of our flock, I was so grateful it worked out.

I noticed that Rooster trained him well and that Dvorak learned well. Dvorak is a very smart boy and seems to be a bit of a worrier like Rooster, though not to the same extent. He paid close attention to Rooster though. You could see him studying Rooster. It was awesome to see. Dvorak was my sweet baby boy from the summer of 2022. I had never seen such a sweet, snuggly baby boy, so I was so thankful he got along with Rooster and developed into an excellent rooster for our flock. Dvorak doesn’t have much of a tail, but he has a big heart.

He and Rooster have worked really well together guarding the flock, and I noticed that, with Dvorak around, every now and then, Rooster would take a rest this summer and just dust bathe or stretch out in the sun. He could NEVER do that before. Still, it wasn’t much of a rest, and he mostly kept working.

Then, Ruby raised two babies in the late spring, and they both turned out to be boys. I was devastated because, with two roosters, we could never keep three. Our flock is just not quite big enough. I found the best home in the history of the world for the gray rooster, but we still had the little black rooster. He was pretty skittish because he was raised by a neurotic mama (Ruby), but he just kept getting more and more beautiful. His real mama is Hector, and he started to look like Black Copper Maran rooster like his mama. And these roosters are gorgeous!

I wanted to keep him, but I figured there was no way. Too many roosters means misery for the hens. I started looking for a home for him. He comes from a great breed and is carrying a very dark egg gene. This is prized, so I thought it would be very easy to find him a home.

Twice, I thought I had made the deal, but when it came time to really do it, they changed their minds. One just ended up being too far to drive, even though I was willing to drive a long way to help. This was also right in the middle of “Free Rooster Looking for a Good Home” season in the fall on social media, so I had to admit defeat.

I asked Ron about what to do, and he said maybe we should try to keep him. I agreed that it wouldn’t hurt to just try, but we both agreed that if the hens started to suffer that he would have to go. I would try again to find him a home, and if that didn’t work, well….

Dear readers, I am happy to report that it worked out very well–like better than I could have imagined well because, as it turns out, Rooster really just wanted to retire. He is pretty old after all. He is 8 years old, which is really good for a Rooster who has been eating feed formulated for hens his whole life.

Dvorak went to work right away training the new boy, and Dvorak is young, so he was just extra. He watched every move the new boy made and put him in his place right away. He never hurt him, and it was a great sign that he never had to. The new rooster went right along with the program and is now doing great. He’s doing so great that we gave him a name. We decided to name him Rostropovich since we had to give our original Rostropovich to a new home.

And, of course, the final great part of this story is watching Rooster enjoy his retirement. He just does whatever he wants all day long. After the near miss with the hawk, he did work for a few days, but mostly, he rests. He eats. He visits with his favorite hens. He makes sure he gets some of the snacks from the kitchen scraps. I even saw him hanging out in a nest box the other day. He like, “I’m just seeing what all the fuss is about.”

His breathing is clear. He has more energy. I do regular checks on him for mites because, when a chicken is run down, they are more likely to get mites, but he has been free and clear all year. I also saw him mate with a hen the other day, and he doesn’t do that a lot any more. And you can just see it in his face. He’s enjoying life. I have no words for how happy this makes me. It also gives me hope for a worrier like me.

I don’t know how much longer he has, but I am grateful he is doing so well and enjoying some retirement. That sweet boy has earned it. I love him to the moon and back, and I hope Rooster’s retirement makes it so I get more time with him and that he gets more time living a pretty good life.

Ode to the Rhode Island Red

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment
This is Lucy, who turned out to be my oldest original girl who passed away last year. This was taken when she was just 3 years old. Isn’t she just perfect?

This May, it will be 10 years since I became a chicken mama. I remember the morning those 17 Rhode Island Reds arrived at the post office. I had been researching and dreaming about getting chickens for years, and when I opened that cardboard box full of baby chicks in the early morning light, I fell madly in love. All 17 of our girls were Rhode Island Reds. After researching breeds, I landed on Rhode Island Reds because I read that they handle the cold of Maine well, are considered a high-intelligence breed, and are great layers.

These beautiful chickens had all three of these qualities and were so much more than I ever thought chickens could be. Of course, now I know all chickens are unique and interesting, but at first, I thought my chickens were special. I had always heard people say chickens were dumb, and I knew that was surely not true, but I had no idea just how smart chickens are, especially when it comes to social and emotional intelligence.

It could be the power of that first learning about how magnificent chickens truly are that made me fall so in love with the Rhode Island Red, but I think it’s more than that. Rhode Islands are a fantastic, often overlooked breed. I feel it’s fair to say they are taken for granted.

After all, they lay brown eggs, which, in the chicken world is not nearly as exciting as those blue or green or chocolate or olive eggs. I have certainly spent years chasing the green and blue and olive eggs, and I treasure all of the beautiful colors our girls lay. Still, even after all of the years and the bright colors, there is something so exquisitely beautiful to me about the simple, creamy brown egg of the Rhode Island Red.

Rhode Island Reds lay very, very well–actually too well. One of the first and hardest lessons I learned as a chicken mama is that breeds like the Rhode Island Red, who lay an egg almost every day, have been bred to be that way without consideration for the longevity of the bird. In fact, they are meant to be culled after just 18 to 24 months when they are used commercially (Rhode Island Reds along with ISA Browns are often the ones used commercially), so many of the Rhode Island Reds in our country do not have the greatest genetics in terms of living a long life. Out of the 17 Rhode Island Reds we started with, 7 or 8 were having terrible reproductive issues before they were even 2 years old. It was a blow, and after much research and years of experience, I came to deeply understand that “production breeds” are just not likely to live a long time. You can get lucky. Broody Hen was 8 years old, and Lucy lived to nearly 9. We also had a few girls make it 5 or 6 years, but we lost most of them way too young.

After all of that hard learning early on, I decided to seek out breeds that were not production birds. I didn’t want an egg every day from every hen. I love eggs, but I also wanted my girls to live long full lives. Life on our homestead is a good one. There is protected free ranging, green grass, warm sun, treats, garden time, and lots of love. I want my chickens to get to enjoy that as long as possible and not die early due to reproductive issues or ovarian cancer.* So I found breeds that lay fewer eggs. Most of our chickens are breeds that do not lay super frequently. Instead of 5 to 6 eggs eggs per week like my Rhode Island Reds laid, most of our girls lay just 3 or so times per week, maybe 4 or 5 during peak light, but that is short lived. We also do not light our coop in the winter anymore, so that helps because chickens will not lay eggs without light.

But after so many years of seeking out other breeds, mostly heritage breeds who lay less frequently, I miss the Rhode Island Reds. I have three children of our original girls left who came out looking just like Rhode Island Reds, even though we did not have a RIR rooster–Betty Jr., Joan, and Vivaldi–but that’s all we have. I miss all of those Rhode Island Red girls. I have decided to look into purchasing some heritage Rhode Island Reds.

Rhode Island Reds are an American breed, developed in Rhode Island and Massachusetts in the late 19th century. It was bred to be a dual-purpose bird–for both meat and eggs because Rhode Island Reds tend to be bigger birds. Of course, in recent decades, the commercial RIRs have been bred with a focus just on increased egg laying. The breed was developed by breeding different breeds of Asian chickens with the Brown Leghorn from Italy. According to The Livestock Conservancy, the traditional strains of this breed (heritage birds) are listed as a “watch” breed, which falls in between “threatened” and “recovering.” There are certainly not a lot of heritage RIR breeders out there. I have been searching for years and found just a handful of seemingly reputable breeders. With that in mind, heritage Rhode Island Reds are very expensive chickens.

Still, for my birthday this year, I plan to get myself some. I found a breeder that sells them for $28 per chicken, and I am going to pay it and have some of these beautiful birds again. I have this notion that, when my son is grown, I would like to start a line of heritage RIRs. I have thought about this for years, but I didn’t know if there would be enough interest in the breed. However, since reading they are the “watch” list from The Livestock Conservancy and finding myself missing this fantastic breed so much, I think it’s worth a shot. I need to research more before I invest in a heritage rooster, but I am definitely getting at least 3 or 4 baby girls this summer. I just have to wait for Petty to go broody. She is going to be my go-to mama every year until she stops going broody.

I find myself of late treasuring the things in my life that are simple, sturdy, and good. To me, there is nothing more simple, sturdy, and good than a Rhode Island Red.

***I thought I should mention that there are chicken farmers who argue that there is no connection between the number of eggs laid and ovarian cancer, but my own experience has told me otherwise. Additionally, chickens have been used to study ovarian cancer in humans for years because they ovulate so much, so there is a connection. And, finally, just last year, I read an article in a chicken magazine making the connection between ovulation and ovarian cancer. It just makes sense that that much ovulation is going to increase the chances of cancer in the cells.

She watches the skies.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

This morning, we had a near death experience with a hawk. I did not see it, but we clearly had a hawk come in and make a try for one of our chickens.

Ron and I were playing cards while drinking our tea and coffee. The morning chores had been done a while. It was raining, so Ron said he was surprised when Boudica didn’t want to come inside. He said she looked like she meant to work this morning, so Bairre came in the house after chores but not Boudica. We were just about finished with a long game with our cards when Boudica started going off in a big way.

I didn’t run since it seemed like she was barking at the woods and we have good fences, but I did stop what I was doing and head outside. The stress of the situation hit me as soon as I got outside and heard everything. I couldn’t see the chickens at all, which was a big worry, and the birds in the trees were making very weird noises. It sounded like distress. That sound, coupled with Boudica, who was completely freaking out at this point because she was in a different fence and couldn’t get to the chickens, put me to work.

I ran toward the front, forested part of the chicken yard. I couldn’t see anything in the trees, but only a few people were in the coop. I figured everyone had to be in the woods.

When I got there, about half the flock came out running, some went to the raspberry bushes to hide, and others ran all the way to coop. I knew the situation must have been bad because they were all making terrified noises. Even Mary Jane, who was running by the way, was making the strangest noise I have ever heard her–or any chicken–make.

As I made my way into the trees, more chickens came out, and then I heard movement above my head. I saw a gray hawk fly out of a neighbor’s tree that is right above our chicken yard. It flew back toward my neighbor’s house. I am about 90 percent sure it was a Cooper’s hawk. It’s almost always a Cooper’s hawk in our woods.

Then, I started hunting. Ron came outside, and I filled him in. “Boudica is amazing!” he said.

“It’s the truth!” I replied.

I kept looking, and, eventually, Ron came to help. We both agreed that, surely, since I had seen the hawk, that it didn’t get anyone; still, I would feel better finding all of the littles. They are all nearly grown, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and Lenore, are still pretty small and could easily be carried off by a hawk. I will never hatch fall babies again. It’s warm enough now in Maine to do it, but they are pretty little still during hawk season. They have an extra risk.

I could find all of the littles except for Tuesday and Wednesday. Lenore and Annie were in the raspberry bushes, and Clara was in the coop. I found poor little Jacqueline out by herself by the front fence, trying to get into the coop the wrong way. She was completely panic stricken, so I reached down to just pick her up and carry her to the coop. When I did, she reacted violently. Her little head turned around, and she got me and my robe with her beak. She mainly got my robe, but it still hurt. She was just about to get me again, when I started talking sweet to her. She released her vice grip on my robe, and I felt her feet relax. That poor little baby had been traumatized. Because she was completely alone, she may have been a target, but I am not sure. I just know I have never seen a hen that traumatized.

I was still looking for Tuesday and Wednesday when I found Piatigorsky hiding so still in the bushes in the woods. She must have had a close call too. She was so still, I thought she was dead at first. I had to say her name three times before she moved. I reached in to pick her up, and she just buried her head into me. She is still the sweetest girl, and I am so glad she is okay. Next, I found Faure in a similar situation, but she didn’t want me to pick her up. I did have to walk her to Ron, who then walked her to the coop.

Ron and I continued to communicate as we gradually found people. Still, neither of us had found Tuesday and Wednesday. Ron told me to try to coop one more time and check the nest boxes. When I did, I found Wednesday. I was so happy to find her but then also a little more worried that there was no Tuesday. The chances of a hawk getting away with one baby in the time it took me to get out there was not zero.

Ron and I kept looking. We made our way back into the woods that we had already searched and searched when Tuesday came walking out of camouflage it seems. There she was, the cutest little thing I have ever seen–only aged a few years after that much stress. She stayed right with us as we walked her back to the coop.

“We had better go thank Boudica extra hard,” Ron said, and I agreed. We both made the biggest fuss over her, and she was so proud. I cannot express the depths of my gratitude to her in words, but I think she felt it. It is a gratitude I felt in my chest and in my bones this morning.

“She watches the skies,” Ron said. “It’s remarkable.”

I agreed.

It is humbling beyond all measure to be in the presence of such greatness. How lucky am I to have Boudica as my dear friend and partner on this homestead?

*It feels important that I add a quick note at the end of the story about Boudica and her magnificence. Boudica is a Great Pyrenees, a Livestock Guardian dog. She was not born knowing how to protect our flocks. She learned. It is a myth that you do not have to train LGDs. Great Pyrenees are the smartest dogs I have ever encountered. They have been bred for thousands of years to have strong critical thinking skills and to think for themselves without humans around. They learn so quickly, but they do have to be taught. Far too many Great Pyrenees are surrendered to shelters because people do not understand this.

The Last Duck Eggs

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

In the last week, we have gone from getting 10 chicken eggs per day to 7 eggs per day. They have done pretty well this fall in terms of giving us some eggs, and I am thankful. It won’t be long before they are all resting for the most part. It’s always the worst between Thanksgiving and the Winter Solstice. Thankfully, they will be laying again within weeks of the Solstice. That light is like magic for the hens.

The ducks, however, are all getting older, and though we would normally get between 1 and 3 eggs per day from them in October, this year, we are lucky to get a single egg. They are all over five years old now, so this is to be expected. Still, I’m always sad when the ducks take a break for the winter because they take a long break. That’s probably what helps them live to be like 15 years old though, so I am thankful the ducks get to rest.

The night before last, Ron made his famous-to-us challah bread and potato soup with potatoes and onions from the garden. It’s one of my favorite meals of all time. This was our first soup and bread of the season, and it felt extra special. When Ron was making the challah bread, he held up a duck egg before he cracked it and said “the first challah and the last duck eggs of the season.”

I knew exactly what he meant.

Tea, Tomatoes, and Mary Jane

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Our teenage son is sick tonight, and it’s the first time he’s been sick since 2019. He’s not taking it well after all of those years feeling great, I suppose, and he’s so grumpy. It’s kind of funny to me, though I feel badly he feels badly. I just made him some hot tea with honey to help his sore throat, and I admired the tea and cup and towel for holding the hot cup and had to take a picture. It’s cozy. There is a slight chill in the air now, and I find myself looking forward to the cozy of fall.

The tea didn’t help unfortunately, but he asked for eggs. He asked if eggs might help. I told him, if he felt hungry for them, then surely. Plus, I reminded him that an egg makes a life. It’s pretty powerful. The eggs helped, he said, so that’s hopeful. I definitely hope I do not catch whatever he has.

I had to write tonight to share a Mary Jane story. She’s hanging in there and still getting around pretty well. She just moves as this slower pace that is a bit hard to describe. I mean, she has always moved a little more slowly, I think. She’s double the size of all of the other chickens. Still, in her old age, she is extra slow. Poor girl.

This afternoon, I was feeding some garden scraps to the chickens, and I had two sun gold tomatoes. Mary Jane adores these. They might be her favorite food. I gave her the first one, and she moved so slowly that it was stolen right out of her beak. So I broke the second one up a little and let her try again. She was still too slow, and the second tomato was stolen out of her beak as well. Those young hens are quick!

Mary Jane was so frustrated. She just started pecking heads of anyone who was in her general vicinity. I guess it wasn’t too hard, as no one cried, but they all got out of her way. The tomatoes were gone though. I felt badly for Mary Jane. I know how it feels to get older and slow down.

Of course, I could not let it end this way. I went into the house and got two more tomatoes from our dinner allotment. I cut them up into little pieces. As I made my way toward the chickens, I told Mary Jane to be ready, and she surely was. I put my hand down, and she gobbled those tomato pieces.

She’s such a great hen.

Oh, and that reminds me. Her daughter, Petty, is doing great as a broody hen. The babies should be hatching in about 5 days, maybe sooner, as they sometimes hatch a little early. It’s been really cool getting to know Petty. She’s very no-nonsense. It’s so opposite of Ruby. Though I love Ruby to the moon and back, it’s like a breath of fresh air working with Petty. I’ll have to write more about her soon. I hope she’s a good mama.

The Candling

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Today, I candled the eggs Petty has been sitting on. She is on day 8 today, so it was time to see how things were going. She has been sitting on 10 eggs, and 8 were fertile!

I thought she had been doing a very good job. I bring her some kind of treat each day, and while she is still skeptical about my involvement in this whole process, she is kind about it. Plus, I am sure treats help. She won’t get off of the eggs herself to take a bathroom break, so every other day, I pull her off and get her to walk around a little bit. Even as I am in the crate with her, dragging her off the eggs, she is never mean to me. In fact, when she pecks at me for getting near the eggs, it’s not even a real peck. It will be interesting to see if she remains so chill once the babies come.

Anyway, I am pretty excited about the eggs because Ruby’s egg is growing! I am thinking a baby from Ruby and our rooster, Dvorak, who is completely gray, should be beautiful. And guess what? Juliet’s egg is fertile! We have a fertile one from Silver as well, and even one of the Salmon Faverolle eggs is fertile. Apparently, Dvorak has been doing a better job than he was in the spring.

Of course, it’s still early. I don’t know if all of these babies will make it, but it’s a hopeful start. And I really like hanging out some with Petty and getting to know her. Her mama, Mary Jane, is still living a bit on borrowed time, so I am thankful to get to know Petty more. She’s a fantastic hen.

I guess they all are in the own ways, aren’t they?