Herohens

It was a long winter. We had snow on the ground from November to April. (That’s six months — I counted.) And while we don’t count on eggs from the farm during those short, cold days, spring usually brings bounty. We did get a precious dozen early in the season. Just look at these beauties…

But that may be it for a good long while, because the chickens have been under attack, literally. We’re down to two hens (our herohens) and three roosters. One might think the roosters are good for more than infernal crowing at all hours of the day and night; perhaps they could sire some chicks, for example. But they seem to be content lording it over the two hens and strutting about looking for insects, stray birdseed, and smackerels from the compost pile. The boys also enjoy the Rhododendrons. They think we can’t see them…

In the fall, the chickens were under attack by racoons. You know, those cute masked bandits. Or maybe they’re quirky and cool like Rocket Racoon from the Avengers movies. Sure, until they start eating your chickens. Not cool. And this spring the culprits have been weasels that hang out in stone walls waiting for an opportunity to rodeo ride a chicken and bite off its head. (Sorry. That was too graphic for a G-rated blog, but it happened.) And there was the stray enormous hawk that was probably on migration and stopped for a snack. My dog Beau and I interrupted his meal, but we weren’t in time to save the hen.

And so, I’m down to my last few farm eggs. I’ve been rationing them, naturally. No baking with farm eggs or even scrambling them. I crack them gently and lovingly into the fry pan, admiring their beauty and cursing the weasels. I’m rooting for the last herohens and hoping that at least one of them is in the family way. They’re masters at hiding their eggs; it could happen one day that a line of little peepers will come parading out of the barn. Now wouldn’t that be a sight to gladden the heart of a farmer?