The daylight is shortening yet we’re getting lots more eggs. Magic? Nope! Young chickens.
Since we have kept chickens, I have always known who laid what. This was not rocket science, as it’s rather easy to tell a white egg from a light or dark brown one, a spotted from a blue. This has been a rather convenient ability, as we can tell who’s ailing and who’s well, plus, it makes breakfast choices more easy: “Whose eggs do you want today,” I ask the girl, “Pauline’s? Letha’s? You haven’t had Maggie’s in a while.”
But now, I find I am rather stymied at egg harvest time. Lined up on their towel, newly washed and wet, I turn them over with my fingers. It’s like we have chicken company or something, and the feeling is quite surprising. Whose are YOU, little speckled one, little pointy brown one. And new eggs from new chickens are indeed surprising. Often, they don’t have the kinks worked out in the system, so double yolks are quite common, as is the somewhat gross jelly egg (soft, unformed shell) and–once–the egg-within-the-egg total freakout.
I am glad we like eggs. With the wee bantam eggs, hard-shelled guinea eggs (guineas are stalwart daily layers in warm months, feedburners the cold months, so I guess it averages out), and now eggs from both laying hens AND meat chickens…we had better like them!