everything you've always wanted to know about eggs* (*but were afraid to ask)

we collect between 1 and 2 dozen eggs a day (and we hoard egg cartons, so call me if you have any spares).  our hens lay brown eggs, as most breeds do. supermarket eggs are usually white because most commercial breeders use the same breed of high-capacity laying hens - white leghorns.  this, combined with the decline in the number of backyard flocks, has pushed a few chicken breeds to the verge of extinction.  some of the chicks we keep (orpingtons, wyandottes and brahmas) are on the endangered list.  i'm concerned about the loss of diversity in the food supply, but more on that later (let's stick with eggs for now).

more egg trivia (more than you probably want to know)...

hens start laying at about 22 weeks of age.  some breeds are better layers than others, but most young hens will lay an egg a day in summer.  laying decreases as they get older.  

a hen's laying cycle is based on light.  they need a certain amount of continuous light to produce an egg, which is why they lay more eggs in the summer and less in winter.  it's also why commercial egg producers use artificial light - creating an artificially long "day" and short "night" - to increase laying frequency (which is hard on the hens).  the natural drop in winter egg production gives the hens a "hiatus" that their bodies need. 

hens don't need a rooster to lay eggs, they only need one to fertilize them.  you'd be surprised how many people don't know this.  a hen that's inclined to sit on eggs to hatch them is described as "broody".  a hen will usually sit on a nest that's accumulated 4 or more eggs, though some of ours will go "broody" on a nest with no eggs at all (even though i've explained the futility of this).  it takes about 21 days to hatch a chick.

hens add a natural coating to the outside of their eggs which makes them non-porous and resistant to bacteria.  the coating also keeps them fresh longer, and allows them to be stored unrefrigerated (which is how most of the world stores their eggs - surprise!).  commercial egg producers wash their eggs before sale, and add a thin sealant (usually mineral oil). since the sealant is not as effective as the natural stuff, these eggs must be refrigerated to avoid spoilage.

if you crack an egg and see a red, brown or darkish spot near the yolk, it isn't an embryo - it's from the hen.  sometimes tiny blood vessels burst in the oviduct, which can cause a spot in the egg (i know - yuck! - but it's perfectly safe to eat).  

older eggs are better for hard-boiling.  fresh eggs are harder to peel because the whites have not aged enough to separate from the shell.  learned this the hard way making deviled eggs for a party (at least they tasted good!).

the garden

hurray - i finished planting the vegetable garden.  alittle late, but that's usually how it goes.  the hardest part is removing the crabgrass that creeps in over the winter.  it's relentless.  once the grass was cleared, james dumped about five skid steer buckets of compost on the soil.  the chickens had a good time scratching and pecking while i raked it around.  our compost is looking good this year, thanks to james.  he collected manure from a neighbor's horse stalls for about a year, taking the loads by tractor each sunday and dumping them into three huge concrete bins in the back of the property (which, i'll admit, seemed alittle crazy to me at the time).  he mixed it with straw, shavings and manure from our animals, kept it moist and turned it with the tractor every week.  eventually, steam rose from the piles when he turned them and worms appeared, as if by magic.  now we have a ton of rich, odor-free compost for the garden and trees.

fortunately, most things grow well in the soil here.  we had big success with lettuce last summer despite the heat, so i planted more.  i also planted an heirloom variety of beans, yellow peppers, cucumbers and summer squash.  broccoli rabe is a new addition, as are scallions.  the quest for decent tomatoes continues.  i've never had luck growing them, but i try every year.  this year's attempt = early girls and beefsteaks.  i want to plant a large plot of corn in the back, but don't know if we'll get around to it this year since we need to build a temporary fence first.  i've never planted a large enough crop to produce really good corn.  someday.

in another month or so there will be an explosion of figs; missions, brown turkeys, queen annes and kadotas.  there was a fig orchard on the back acre about ten years ago, but only a few trees remain.  i dry as much of the fruit as i can once it's ripe, since figs don't stay fresh too long after they're picked.  the first year, i tried drying figs in the sun but they were hard and chewy. the daughter of the original owners (who lives next door) makes candied figs every year so i modified her technique for processing figs.  i combine water, brown sugar, fresh orange or lemon juice with the peel, red wine, cloves and cinnamon in a stock pot and simmer the figs in it for about 20 minutes or until they are soft and plump.  then i drain and dry them in the oven for 2-3 days.  they last in the fridge for a couple of weeks, or in the freezer for several months.  we save the poaching liquid to use as a syrup over ice cream.  it's awesome.

our fruit trees are old and some of them are reaching the end of their life spans.  we planted about 20 saplings this year - apples, peaches, plums and apricots, mostly.  our neighbor, jim, showed us how to root branch cuttings from our fig trees.  he's lived in the area his whole life, grafts his own trees, and is an encyclopedia of experience about all things green.  with his help, james rooted half a dozen little missions and queen annes that are ready to be transplanted into boxes.  

shearing

we finally finished shearing the sheep.  we saved the easiest for last - becky (the tiniest), and skittle (the friendliest ewe).  james and i sheared the first four alone, but had the help of a couple of friends for the final two.  they thought it would be "fun", but i think the novelty wore off when becky peed on one of them (thanks for being good sports, craig and vickey!).

we started raising babydoll southdown sheep about three years ago.  they're little lawnmowers who will eat nearly anything that's green.  we used to spend hours weeding, trimming and mowing, but no more.  the sheep do it all for us.  babydolls are a small breed, known for their gentle temperament.  they follow us around like dogs and love attention.  we currently have 6 adults - 3 ewes and 3 rams.  each year we have a few baby lambs.

no one really taught us how to shear.  the first year, i hired a couple of 4-H kids who were on their way north from riverside to pick up some hogs (yes, really).  i couldn't find any professional shearers who were willing to travel here for a few sheep, and the kids had raised and sheared their own, so it seemed like a good idea.  plus, they knew the breeder who sold skittle to us.  i was eager to see how it was done, and wondered what kind of equipment they would bring with them.  they brought clippers with one blade and a halter.  that was it.  we used the halter to lead the sheep to the tarp i had laid out, then two of us held the sheep still as one of the girls sheared the animals where they stood.   it looked very easy. unfortunately the blade didn't stay sharp enough to shear all four sheep, so i had to use scissors to finish trimming the last ewe.  i decided that it wasn't very scientific after all, and james and i could do it ourselves the following year.

last year, i ordered a shearing machine and a couple of blades from an online sheep supply.  i borrowed a stanchion from my friend, put down the tailgate of my old chevy pickup to use as a shearing table, and invited a couple of neighbors to help us with our maiden shearing.  since sheep don't come willingly to be shorn, much of the work involved either luring or carrying the animals (or both) onto the stanchion.  the shearing machine was heavier than i thought.  it was tricky to anticipate the contour of the sheep's body before running the incredibly sharp blade across it.  the fleece completely obscures the skin beneath.  one wrong move and the skin would be cut.  our vet told me a horror story about a 4-H kid who cut the jugular of a sheep at a shearing demonstration.  images of that disaster ran through my mind as we took turns cautiously clipping the fleece.  the sheep were very patient with us and fortunately, there were no major injuries.  we did discover that becky had a hernia, but that was nothing serious.

this year was easier.  i bought a stanchion with a ramp, which seemed like a good idea until we realized the sheep would only put their front legs on it, but wouldn't walk up it.  we had to slide each sheep up the ramp, onto the platform (and clearly, our rams have gained weight since last year!).  the goal when shearing is to run the blade through just once, rather than going back for a second pass.  second cuts decrease the value and useability of the fleece for spinning yarn. james wielded the clippers with confidence and i used scissors to trim the more delicate and unreachable areas.  the sheep were fairly well-behaved, with the exception of isaac who jumped off the stanchion when he was half-sheared and led us on a wild goose chase worthy of the three stooges.  i ended up on the ground, flat on my stomach, listening to the patter of little hooves around me (sheep roadkill?).

the world record for shearing a sheep is 45 seconds.  most professional shearers can finish a sheep in less than 2 minutes, and shear 200 head per day.  how do they do it?  it took us about an hour to shear each sheep and we needed a lemonade break between them.  after finishing two, we needed a nap.

buffy

buffy is back in the house tonight.  poor thing.  she's been in and out for a week, battling a nasty sinus infection that's left her pale, thin and lethargic.  i offered her some fresh corn and blueberries (her favorite) when i came home, but she wasn't interested.  i gave her a shot of baytril and put her in a cage in the den to sleep (while i watched the nba playoffs - go lakers!).  buffy's a white cochin bantam - basically, a miniature chicken.  i don't know whether she's going to make it, but she's been fighting for a week so i'm not counting her out just yet.

i knew nothing about chickens before we moved here.  a few months after we arrived,  james and i found a skinny old rooster walking down the side of the road in the rain and adopted him. our local hardware store sells baby chicks, so one thing led to another and soon the rooster had a flock of 6 hens.  now, after several hatches and a few adoptions, we have 34 standard chickens, 12 bantams and more eggs than we can possibly eat.  our latino neighbors say our chickens remind them of life in mexico.  hopefully, in a good way.

hens remind me of teenage girls.  they form cliques, and do everything together in groups. the cliques tend to run along color lines, with all the same-colored birds flocking together and the one-offs forming a separate group.  hens will snub anyone who's not in their group and like to perch next to their best friends at night.  they complain alot, like to sunbathe, take naps and preen.  

chickens aren't very compassionate.  in fact, compassion seems to be lacking in the animal world as a whole.  guess i could have tuned to animal planet for that bit of news.  don't know why i find it surprising.  birds will pick on the weak and ill, which is why it's so hard to tell when one is sick or injured.  they'll hide their suffering until they're nearly at death's door.  at the same time, they can be surprisingly resilient, courageous in the face of pain, and occasionally very brave.  

i wish i had noticed buffy's condition sooner.  under her fluffy feathers, she's very thin (she probably only weighs a pound or so).  i'm hoping the baytril will do the trick.

the beginning

it all started when james and i decided to look for a house with some land.  our search took us to the northeast corner of the valley, where we became the second owners of a lathe-and-plaster, spanish-style house on 2.3 acres.  the house was built in 1928 by an immigrant italian family who planted olive trees and processed the oil for sale.  the iron oil presses still stand in the barn, and the property is dotted with over a dozen huge olive trees and a small fruit orchard.  we are one of a handful of larger properties in the area that haven't yet been competely sliced up and covered with mc mansions.   suburban sprawl is all around us - condos and townhomes are overtaking the landscape and traffic is increasing - but riders still trot their horses down the streets and roosters crow to each other at dawn.  

i lived in the city nearly all of my adult life.  i didn't own a pet or even a plant because my job required constant mobility.  creating a home with james and putting down roots in this little suburban community taught me as much or more than i learned by traveling the globe.  i now know how to use a backhoe.  i have built a chicken pen by myself.  i can make jam.  i know the difference between a kadota and a queen anne fig.  i have friends who make their own cheese - using milk from their own goats.  i've assisted with a hen's surgery on the dining room table, and trimmed the cord of a newborn lamb.  i never thought that i would know how to do any of these things, nor did i anticipate how these experiences would forever change me.

this blog is a place to share some of the unexpected things i have learned, and continue to learn. welcome!