To lay or not to lay. That is the question, at least in our henhouse.
The oldest of our four hens, Plymouth Rocks Snow and Nala, have been producing eggs since we bought them back in April of last year. But the new girls, Rhode Island Reds Hope and Nellie, whom we acquired in May of this year, were too young to do so until recently.
The conventional wisdom is that hens start laying when they’re about 24 weeks old, a milestone that Hope and Nellie reached two or three weeks ago. Unfortunately, the Reds never got the memo telling them they should become productive members of society once they had celebrated their six-month birthdays.
The oldest of our four hens, Plymouth Rocks Snow and Nala, have been producing eggs since we bought them back in April of last year. But the new girls, Rhode Island Reds Hope and Nellie, whom we acquired in May of this year, were too young to do so until recently.
The conventional wisdom is that hens start laying when they’re about 24 weeks old, a milestone that Hope and Nellie reached two or three weeks ago. Unfortunately, the Reds never got the memo telling them they should become productive members of society once they had celebrated their six-month birthdays.
The Reds - or one of them, at least - have been laying very sporadically, as shown by the occasional egg with a soft shell, or the very light-colored egg with a rough surface that turned up about a week ago. The experts say it can take new layers a while to get the hang of the thing, so their initial offerings can be oddly shaped, or thin, or small, or bumpy. Not to mention few and far between. To make matters worse, the normally reliable Snow and Nala decided to stage a work slowdown when we got hit with a week-long heat wave earlier this month.
The upshot of all this is that I’ve been feeding and caring for four hens while collecting only one egg - two at the most - every day. So you can imagine my relief last Saturday when I went out to the coop and found not one, not two, but three eggs neatly nestled in the pine shavings that provide bedding in the nest box.
All three eggs had firm shells. And all of them were smooth and well-formed. Two of the eggs were large, suggesting that they were the work of Snow and Nala. The third was tiny, by chicken standards, meaning either Nellie or Hope was trying to earn her keep as well.
The upshot of all this is that I’ve been feeding and caring for four hens while collecting only one egg - two at the most - every day. So you can imagine my relief last Saturday when I went out to the coop and found not one, not two, but three eggs neatly nestled in the pine shavings that provide bedding in the nest box.
All three eggs had firm shells. And all of them were smooth and well-formed. Two of the eggs were large, suggesting that they were the work of Snow and Nala. The third was tiny, by chicken standards, meaning either Nellie or Hope was trying to earn her keep as well.
The same thing happened all over again on Sunday, and today as well. Each new day brought three more eggs.
As I carried that first clutch back to the house on Saturday, I found myself feeling almost euphoric at the prospect of having three eggs to wash and refrigerate. That might strike some as an overreaction, but I think it’s good for the soul when we find joy in the smaller blessings that life sometimes provides.
As I carried that first clutch back to the house on Saturday, I found myself feeling almost euphoric at the prospect of having three eggs to wash and refrigerate. That might strike some as an overreaction, but I think it’s good for the soul when we find joy in the smaller blessings that life sometimes provides.
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| Saturday's harvest: notice how small the bottom egg is, compared to the others. |
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