An Egg a Day

I was in the mood for a boiled egg for breakfast. So, I opened the back door, walked across my small back yard, unlatched the door of the petite hen house tucked against the side of my garage and reached in the nesting box. Just as I expected, there was a single brown egg on the thick layer of shavings. The egg was still warm because it had just been laid moments before. Walking back into the kitchen, the egg cradled in my palm, I couldn’t help but be proud of both of us. Of course, Merlin, the fluffy Buff Orpington who left the egg for me, deserves most of the credit. After all, she did the most significant part. She lays an egg a day. Every morning, she hops onto the nest and lays an egg – every other day a jumbo double-yolk surprise - and launches into exuberant cackling to make sure I know about it. A few minutes later, Little Blackie a Black Star pullet does the same. By noon, Cricket, the flighty, speckled, Italian Ancona with the large red comb flopping over her forehead as she runs out of the coop to scratch at the grass in the backyard, has made her contribution. Backyard chickens are all the rage. Coop tours are held in cities across the country and feature stories pop up in big city papers like the New York Times and on National Public Radio. Some attribute the movement to the faltering economy. Others see it as an answer to high prices at the grocery store. Still others say it is evidence that many of us want a stronger connection to nature. In my backyard, the truth lies somewhere to between all these things. Part of the reason I decided to have a small flock of three hens, was to make sure the food I ate and fed my family was grown as naturally as possible. No hormones and no heavy dependence on processed diets. And I wanted to connect the food on my table with a sense of contribution. The chickens lay the eggs, but I – with the help of our youngest daughter, care for the chickens. She’s a patient caregiver and makes sure the hens are fed, watered and sheltered. Sometimes, taking care of these details is inconvenient. And there’s a lesson in that, as well. As a result, we have all the eggs my family needs. And we have enough to share. That feels good, too. When the fresh egg is boiled and ready to eat, I sit down to the table and peel away the hard brown shell. Every bite is delicious. And, oh, so satisfying in many ways.