Archive of Past News of the Farm:
January 18, 2010 The Eve of Egg Season |
January 18, 2010
The Eve of Egg Season
Greetings Friends of the Farm,
It was just a test run I suppose.
Tootie
J. Tootums, selfless step-aunt of the pullets, has demurred for two
months to come out and work with us in the field, where it is her job
to sift through any cultivated bed to find the worms and consume them.
She has preferred to stay with a higher calling: her nieces, and
nephews.
But these teenagers are starting to feel grownup and
don’t really need Aunt Tootie’s nurturing. Their combs are reddening;
the rooster nephews are fighting; even the henlets are staging mock
fights, and interest is growing in finding out the reason for those
strange boxes full of straw. It has been a mystery to them, as I’ve
draped a white sheet over them for months now, to discourage the habit
of sleeping (and simultaneously pooping) in them. But now the shroud is
pushed to the side.
(The Teenagers, 4 months, one week old...)
So Tootie told me that she wanted out this morning, and of course, since she is a dear, responsible, and mature hen -- going on seven years old -- I acquiesced, and opened the gate for her. After poking around in some of her favorite mulched areas, she headed out to join Bess and me in the front field, where, to her delight, we were in overdrive, preparing, by hand-and-hoe, more beds, in advance of Don Lupe’s lettuce planting.
All through December and into January, the ground has been so cold that crops have been slow to develop a normal size. The romaine in the front field should have been ready to harvest during the holidays, but now its shortness is a benefit. The big freeze froze the ribs of the leaves, even though the lettuce was covered, but it’s possible the plants will grow out of this damage and be our first romaine lettuce.
(Left the soon-on-the-table romaine; right, the baby romaines.)
Tootie enjoyed her work with us and found many worms. I was cheered that she did, for worms in the upper inches of the soil mean the soil has warmed a bit. Warm soil aids plant growth.
Bess asked if Tootie has ever been hit with the hoe, as she said, “She seems very comfortable with it.” It certainly is a danger, but she keeps one eye on it at all times, and she’s pretty swift of feet too. She’d likely be able to pop up in the air and sail over any threat. We also try to be accurate when she’s near.
After a while, Tootie left us and returned to the barn to see if Boss Chick and her Babes had kicked out any delectable “pullet developer” grains. They didn’t fail to please her. Sated with the grains and certainly full of worms, when she saw me returning with my hoe, she petitioned for entrance to the Hen House. Once in, she harangued me endlessly that the now-exposed nests just weren’t right for her, and so I replenished the hay in them. She entered each one, turned in a circle, examining the straw, but none of them suited her. Then she remembered the small nursery cage that has two built-in nest boxes, and so she pecked the pullets and young cocks out of the way and flew up to one. After it was arranged to her liking, she settled in for the thirty or so minutes it takes for a hen to lay an egg.
(Above, Tootie, on the "throne.")
This
would be Tootie’s first egg of the new year. At her age, she can be
expected to lay a few large ones at the beginning of the main egg
season, and perhaps off and on -- when it pleases her -- until the
season is over, around the end of June. In her younger days, she would
have laid eggs throughout most winters, unless they were very cold and
dark like this one has been. Then she would have used the grain to keep
her warm, but not to make eggs. Why would any hen bring chicks into the
world in the middle of winter anyhow? she asks. Not very responsible of
a hen to do that. Ah, Tootie, I reply, we humans, ahem, eat the eggs
before they foster chicks, and we want to eat them year round. We’re
happy when the hens comply with our culinary desires.
In response to that nonsense, and after thirty minutes of posing in the nest box, the egg-less Tootie hops out and heads to the feed pan. It’ll be cold tonight, and she wants to carb up a bit.
Phooey on our breakfast plans. Maybe next week for a Tootie egg.
Meanwhile, to Tootie’s disgust, the young pullets try out the other nest boxes. In each of a couple of nests, I’ve place one of the matrons’ eggs as a stimulus. The young hens play big-hen-in-the-nest, beaking the lone egg under a feathery breast, while they contemplate for a few minutes the act of laying an egg. It’s fun, but they aren’t yet ready.
(Left, the stimulus; right, one henlet tries, the other has had enough....)
Carol Ann Back