Grateful For My Chicken$

Good grief. Have you bought any eggs lately? Apparently, the average U.S. price of a dozen individual servings of the perfect protein source (AKA œufs ordinaire) is fast approaching five dollars. A few days ago, I saw a box of twelve at the local Giant Eagle (lovely brown ones, surely from happy hens, not battery-raised) sporting a price tag of $9.99.

Almost exactly four years ago (actually, it was January 23, 2021), I came across two very bedraggled, emaciated, and half-frozen specimens at the side of the road, while I was out for a walk. Not quite knowing what to do, I called a neighbor, who drove down with a cage, and we rounded them up, and I took them home. The hen wasn’t well at all, and didn’t survive. Chinggis the rooster, who must be well over six years old by now, flourishes still:

I’d wanted to try raising chickens for a few years, but was afraid to start with peeps, and just never got around to anything else. But here I was, suddenly with a lonely rooster in desperate need of female companionship. (Men are like that. Just sayin’.)

Fortunately my local veterinarian offered to contribute a couple of elderly hens, and a neighbor did the same, and suddenly–Chinggis was about to find himself with a harem! So I needed to do something about accommodations, and I spent a very enjoyable month building the world’s loveliest chicken coop:

and moved them into it.

I’ve been grateful to the “Gods of Chickens Present” ever since.

Although all the ladies were believed to be past their best laying days, they repaid my kindness by providing four eggs a day pretty regularly (the number diminished in winter, but they gave me eggs every day) for two years. Plenty of eggs for me, and more than enough for me to occasionally offer dozens to family and friends. During that time, I built a covered run behind the coop so that they could get some exercise and enjoy the many toys and treats I provided (things like cabbage piñatas, large ice cubes in very hot weather, scratch grains, and plenty of greens.

But old age comes to us all, and the girls weren’t exempt. They laid fewer and fewer eggs, and sadly–one by one–gave up the ghost.

There’s just one “old girl” left today, who’s still Chinggis’s mate. Every once in a blue moon, and to everyone’s surprise–most of all her own–she does manage to lay an egg, amidst much clucking and alarm. She likes to peck it to bits and eat it raw, so I let her.

In August of 2023, I decided it was time to move to the next generation of egg producers, and I—bravely—bought four peeps from Tractor Supply. They spent their first eight weeks or so in a portable trough in the spare bedroom:

Towards the end of that time, I realized I’d have to do something about the old girls (two of them were still living at the time) and Chinggis, who were still up in the “big” coop. (Mixing chicken populations is tough, and they can be quite vicious if you try it. The phrase “henpecked” exists for a reason. As do both “pecking order” and “ruler of the roost.”)

So I split the coop in two to give myself temporary space for both flocks, and a little more room to think about the future as, not long before, I’d broken my left wrist (I’m a leftie—in physical terms, anyway), and needed some more time to heal before I embarked on a substantial construction project. But embark on it I did, building a home for the geriatric birds which I refer to as the “Assisted Living Facility”:

That’s where Chinggis and his girlfriend are at the moment. A generous-size coop for two chickens, with a small but functional run underneath it. On wheels, so it can be moved to fresh ground when needed.

As for the other four (“Gladys Knight and the Pips”) they’re thriving too. It’s not great weather for egg-laying at the moment, but I’ve gotten one or two each day throughout the cold and dark days, and yesterday and today one of my “bluey” chickens who hasn’t laid for a couple of months has picked up again.

The four of them are “Easter Eggers,” a rather haphazard breed that’s a cross between a Chilean “Araucana” rooster and a brown-egg laying hen. The Chilean breed passes on a lethal gene that causes early death, but the cross-breeding (informally, the results are called “Ameraucanas,”) prevents that. “Easter Eggers” can lay both brown eggs and eggs in shades of blue and green. My four consist of two brown-egg layers, one that lays eggs that are a light olive green, and one whose eggs are a beautiful pale robin-egg blue. They’re beautiful in a carton of a dozen. Almost (but not quite) too good to eat.

It’s the latter’s beautiful pale blue eggs that have just reappeared. So, three eggs a day now. Can four be far behind?

Spring is coming. The cycle begins anew.