It's weird because my mother loved cooking eggs. She could cook every kind of international gourmet egg dish. No doubt, my mom could create Egg Heaven in your mouth.
Even though my mother could not be convinced to raise chickens, she understood the value of fresh farm eggs. For most of my childhood, she paid extra to have a small farmer deliver a large carton of eggs straight to our front door, every week. Often, I'd rush out of the house to meet the farmer at his truck built with special racks to hold rows of egg cartons. He was so happy to deliver his eggs and to know that we were enjoying them so much.
As a grown woman who still loves eggs, I often cringe when having to buy them at the local store. Nothing can beat the taste of a farm fresh egg. Even one day can make a difference in taste.
My own family loves eggs, but to tell the truth, it's my husband who makes the delicious egg dishes in this household. He can make a Quiche that's out of this world. But, guess who helped him make his first Quiche? Yes, it was my mother. My husband and my mother loved to cook together. Those two were such a delightful, happy pair in the kitchen! My husband was a natural good cook, but he learned a lot from my mother's old-fashioned cooking methods.
Today, I have chickens in my backyard. Finally! We bought them several weeks ago from a local Tractor Supply store, but they couldn't tell us the sex of the chickens nor the breed. The pen that held the chickens for sale simply said, "Pullets - Six Minimum." So, we bought seven and my husband hoped we'd get lucky with at least five winners.
|A DREAM COME TRUE FOR ME!|
A box of seven chicks!!
|Me finally getting to hold a baby chick! If I can't be in the country|
full-time yet, I will bring some of it to me in the suburbs.
X-rated warning alert for the following few paragraphs, but this IS a part of my Farm Life Lessons experience:
I still cannot get over the terminology of "sexing" a chicken. Somehow, every time the subject comes up, I feel as if I am listening to dirty words. I am learning.
City talk can definitely include a terrible mess of awful cuss words, but farmers and ranchers sure can talk about intensely personal details about very private matters. It's two different worlds. People in the city pay big bucks to have all of their domesticated animals "fixed." Country people openly discuss mating season.
I don't understand mating seasons just yet. A mating season would imply a "time-off" season for mating. Right? I can't even believe my own ignorance in this area, but sadly I am discovering that most of my fellow city residents are just as clueless. In fact, if I question them about their knowledge on the issue, they turn red and want to immediately change the subject. What? I was just asking about your thoughts on sexing?
I guess I will figure out down the road how many other farm animals must be "sexed." I don't want to even think about all of the other surprising farm moments that my disbelieving eyes will be exposed to. On that subject, I dread the day when I stumble upon my cute little farm animals...being animals. Augh.
|Howdy the chicken herding dog.|
|Lyla, the surrogate chicken mama.|
|My baby holding one of the chicks.|
I think she's a country girl at heart too, but she
will vehemently argue this point as she considers
herself a "city girl" through and through.
|Early May 2011 - There's a rooster. At least one that we know of and|
we don't really know of the breed names. A blog reader, Rae, has helped me in blog entry #6 to partly figure it out.
|Chicken Tractor designed and built by my handsome man!|
|They are living it up in|
The Chicken Ranch!