I have included photos of our first egg.
Honestly, I was absolutely gobsmacked. I’ve never had a tastier egg. I offered the egg to the kids to have but they each said, “No, it’s Mother’s Day. It’s your egg.”
They missed their chance. I’ll fight the kids for them, now.
On another note, we went to my parents’ place for Mothers Day lunch. When we came back, Evan4 and I raced down to the chook pen to see the girls.
“Let’s lift up the roof,” said Evan4 and he lifted it up. As he did this, Molly jumped onto the roof off the nesting box and then into the pen.
Absolute Pandemonium! The chooks shrieked and made a mad scramble to get the hell out. One jumped completely out and was on the roof of the run. I reacted instinctively, reached out and grabbed her by the legs and held her upside down, just like the nice farmer told me to do. (It works, you know. That hen just stayed still. I probably would have dropped her if she did something homicidal like flap her wings.)
I looked back and the other hen was balanced precariously on the side of the coop, one step away from free ranging all over the backyard. Bertie was waiting for her to jump. Lord knows where the cats were…
Molly was still leaping around joyously in the pen and Evan4 was backing away from the hen. I still had hold of the roof, so I had a hen in one hand and the roof in the other.
“Grab the chook! Grab her!” I yelled at him. I didn’t want her to get away, because I knew we’d never catch her.
“I can’t!” he said, hands in the air like an old vaudvillian.
I yelled at him again, then David2 came striding down the yard, swept Evan4 a scornful glance and lifted Molly out of the run. Then, with one push, the hen went tumbling gracelessly back into the pen.
At least we still have two chickens.
Look at her little Molly face. How is it possible that she could act like that?