Having four chickens live in your backyard is a little ridiculous. Case in point: right now three of our hens (Inky, Bumble, and Boo Boo) are molting, and it looks like a gigantic pillow fight took place in our yard. The feathers swirl around in the breeze and get stuck in the most unlikely of places, including my hair.
We allow the girls to wander the backyard, where they snack on grass, roost on our ladder, and do their best to destroy our vegetable garden. Right before my birthday party in July, we installed a wire metal fence to keep the chickens and our dog, Domino, out of the garden. The girls had been inviting themselves in to sample the lettuce, snack on bean shoots, and generally wreak havoc. And Domino decided that digging up the carrots would be fun. Twice. So up went the fence and I was happy for approximately six hours. Then my dad reported he had seen our Araucana hen, Clyde, squeeze her fat body through the four-inch holes in the fence and head straight for the vegetables. So much for our fortifications!
And last week, while I was harvesting some tomatoes, I glanced down and saw a pile of three eggs. Apparently the girls have decided that the plush confines of their coop aren’t good enough; they’d rather lay their eggs in a hollow between two kohlrabi.
Silly? Yes. But discovering the eggs made my day.