Since late April I’ve been waiting for eggs. I got an itch to raise my own chickens after my good friend Pam promised me how easy they were to raise. Research was poured into breeds of chickens for this harsh Minnesota climate and hours were spent on Pinterest finding the perfect chicken coop plan for my husband to build.
Last June I got my chicks and after a fateful attempt with round one after Sadie killed the first batch, I have been waiting patiently with batch number two since then. (Two red stars/Isa Browns and two Black Australops).
Like a human mother in her ninth month of pregnancy I wait and wait and wait. Any day now we could see eggs in their nesting boxes, so each morning like a kid on Christmas I run out to the chicken coop before work to see if my girls have given me any eggs.
So far they’ve been keeping their legs closed pretty tight, but are always happy to see me and are getting quite friendly with me even allowing me to pet them and pick them up. Each time I approach the Coop I hear a bak bak bak and I bak bak back.
They are incredibly easy to take care of and love being let out to nibble on all of the greenery my October yard has left to offer.
I have lost track of who’s name is who’s especially after we had to get rid of Henry who used to be Beatrice who then turned into Babs and is now Henry the rooster residing in elk River Minnesota… The problem with naming them is that you get attached, and before you know it they turn into roosters and you have to get rid of them! At least I can still visit Henry….But clearly I digress!
So now they’re just my girls… And I’m their shepherd waiting for them to lay eggs, or am I considered a farmer? These are the musings I contemplate laying in bed while trying to fall asleep.
Which I must do because I have nesting boxes to check in the morning!