Walking the Red Brick Road

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Farm-fresh eggs from free-range chickens

chickensI visited a farm on Friday. Residents were feeding their chickens when I arrived, so I went to the chicken coop. The smell of the coop took me right back to my grandparents’ farm.

Grandma kept chickens throughout most of my childhood. I thought the chickens were hilarious. I laughed at the way they walked, how they stuck out their necks with each step. I laughed when they tried to fly. They were busy things, always chasing after bugs. Grandma didn’t have many bugs; the chickens ate them all.

When I visited, my “chore” was to gather eggs. That was hardly a chore. I thought gathering eggs was a privilege. I loved the smell of the coop and the taste of farm-fresh eggs. The yolks were a deeper yellow and the flavor was much more intense than anything bought in the store.

I didn’t think their beaks were funny, though. Grandma said that I could take eggs from underneath the setting hens. I tried that once. Hen didn’t appreciate my actions and pecked me. I stayed away from occupied nests after that. That beak was sharp!

Grandma finally dispensed with her chickens about the time I went to college. Grandpa tore down the chicken house. Three years later, Grandma dug the soil underneath the chicken house and put it on her garden. The plants came up, then died. That soil was too hot even after three years. Grandma didn’t have much garden that year. The only veggies she harvested were in corners where the “chickenized” soil hadn’t reached. The next year made up for it. She had never had such bountiful crops in decades of gardening.

The farm was never quite the same post-chickens. I missed their soft clucking and their funny strut. And I sure missed fresh eggs and Grandma’s fried chicken. Store-bought chicken just does not compare to free-range, bug-eating chicken. The flavor just is not there.

Now I’m getting hungry!

Labels: family, farm, food, my life

posted by Roxie at 5:00 AM

2 Comments:

Blogger EcoRover said...

Nice chicken story. I have a friend that raises chickens and eggs, lives just a few miles from Butte but his flocks ended up attracting a bear. Big problem, since the bear had to be trapped and moved and if it bothers anyone else (which it probably will, now that it's been habituated to humans as a source of food) it'll be killed. Sort of a moral quandry for those on the urban fringe: they move there because they love the "wildness," but the wildness gets compromised by their very presence...

August 3, 2008 at 11:16 AM  
Blogger Roxie said...

Seems like we hurt what we love.

August 3, 2008 at 6:28 PM  

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Name: Roxie
Location: High Plains, United States

I'm forty-something and have been married to my wonderful husband for 15 years. We have a sweet black kitty, Boo. My relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ, is the underpinning for my life.

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