Wring Your Own ....!

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for an  egg-sorcist

When Dr. Hubby mentioned that he would like to raise a few chickens, I didn’t think anything about it.  He has these ideas that pop into his head occasionally.  I should have known after 49 years that his ideas pop like popcorn and somehow expand exponentially.

We started with twelve little yellow fluff balls in a cardboard box in the barn.  The cute little yellow fluff balls soon outgrew the cardboard box and the pen hubby had rigged up temporarily and turned into twelve white feathered noisy pooping, smelly pullets.

 “Not a problem.  I’ll just build them a pen down where the old barn used to be.  We are going to need a place for the kids' show chickens anyway” says Dr. Hubby.

What followed is now referred to as the Trump Condos for Chickens or the Government Economic Term Stimulus Tentative Under Planned Interactive Development.  I just refer to it as G.E.T.   S.T.U.P.I.D.   In hindsight, I probably could have gotten a government grant to determine which came first:  The Chicken or the Egg.   But no matter, that was a moot question.

Actually the shed, the chain link fence, the recycled old patio doors, the unused French doors, the ceiling fan for circulation, the water-ers, the chicken feeders, plumbing and electricity, a door for easy access, covered porch for the John Deere Gator bought to haul the chicken feed, and shavings  came first.  But to keep the stimulus stimulating, more chicks had to be bought so there would be a continuous supply of eggs…of which I had yet to see one of…..egg  I mean.

We are now up to 24 chicks in various stages of development.  The eleven-year-old picked out her favorite and named it “Sweet Thing”.  After a few more weeks when the first birds were discovering their voices, Sweet Thing had to be renamed Sweet Boy.  Now we have 23 chickens and one rooster.  Dr. Hubby is now concerned that the older birds are pecking on the younger birds so….there is an addition to the Trump Chicken Condos.

 “Well, when the show chickens get here, we are going to have to have a separate place to keep the broilers away from the layers.” I had a better solution.  KFC came to mind.

With the added room, more chicks arrived because…I don’t know why.  He’s a man who can’t resist a sale, auction or anything homeless.  We are now at 32 birds and one rooster and awaiting the arrival of 50 show chickens. 

After four months and an additional 500 square feet of condo living, the first eggs arrived.  It was very educational.  Our eight-year-old has, after much observation, deduced that it takes all day to make an egg.  “First you have to get the yoke in it; then make the shell and add a little dab of protein.”  I think he has mixed up farm life and the cooking network.  Our eleven-year-old was a bit more astute.  “Chickens don’t lay eggs before 10:00.  It is now 11:00.  Do you think chickens can tell time?”

With a rooster in the flock, the eight-year-old got a lesson in sex egg-ucation early on.   Sweet Boy is anything but sweet.  If you walk into the chicken condo carrying anything in your hand like a bucket, he will attack.  If you walk in empty handed, he rushes up to you and wants to be petted.   He has also developed a powerful set of lungs as our neighbors down the road will verify.

As promised, egg production began to increase.  At first we got two or three eggs per day.  Eggs sunny side up.  Then we began to get half dozen a day.  Scrambled eggs.  French Toast. Omelets.  A dozen eggs a day.   Egg salad.  Quiche. Boiled eggs.  Egg custard.  18  eggs per day.  Egg sandwiches.  Eggs Benedict.  EGGS FOR SALE!  I even pushed for our church to declare an Egg-umenical Sunday.  I lobbied for Egg-stra school days.  I argued for a yard sale of Egg-normous size.  I nagged for an Egg-ercise program at the gym.  Nothing.

We can’t afford any more eggs.  Between the chicken feed, the egg cartons, the now egg allergy shots, it is costing us to have chickens.  I am waiting for the old hens to shut down.  Then I’ll add:

 FRESH CHICKENS FOR SALE!  Wring Your Own and Take Her Home!

 And I am not egg-aggerating!

Egg-scuse Me?

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved not to purchase Eggies

If you have watched TV at all in the last few weeks, I am sure you have seen the latest gadget/gizmo must have: The super egg-ceptional, egg-citing, egg-strodinary, The Eggie! This latest device to separate you from your common sense and money is a plastic egg shell…really! They show you the frustrated house wife with a bowl full of hard boiled eggs that look like she tried to peel them with a weed eater. She has been trying to peel them all night. I figure she is getting paid by the hour.

With this double offered twenty-four part egg-citing time saving invention, you can take twenty-five minutes to 1) locate both the tops and bottoms to the Eggies 2) wash the plastic egg holders,3) crack the eggs 4) pour eggs into the plastic holders, 5) mop up what you spilled,6) fish out the bits of shell that got into the Eggie holder, 7) fill a pan with water, 8) light the stove, 8) place your plastic egg holders in the water, 9) remove plastic egg holders from the water, 10) wait for them to cool, 11) remove the eggs from their holders, 12) round up all the Eggie pieces, and 13) place them in the dishwasher and hope they don't fall to the bottom and catch on fire just so you can peel a dozen eggs in thirty seconds.

Or you could put your eggs in a pan of water and boil them.

As for peeling eggs, anybody knows you can't boil and peel fresh eggs without creating the mess the advertiser has pictured. According to " Hints from Heloise" or "My Mama Done Tole Me" or maybe it was Alton Brown or Mr. Wizard, you always use eggs that are at least two days old if you are going to boil them. Once the eggs have boiled, all you need do to peel them is drain the hot water, rinse with cool water, than bounce the heck out of those eggs in the pan. Fill the same pan with a little water and the shells just fall off. You can peel a dozen eggs in less than thirty seconds without the aid of the Eggies.

Now why would anybody want to go through thirteen separate steps, try to keep up with twenty-four pieces of egg-holder-thingy-bobs, and secure them on the rack in the dishwasher when you can accomplish the same thing with one pan and a good bounce?

Egg-zactly!