All About Eggs
I remember the first egg my original flock of hens laid. It was tiny, bluish-green, and cute as a button! I remember cradling it all the way back to the farmhouse, eager to show everyone. My first full dozen called for a pose in front of our Charlie Brown Christmas tree. The old resort shower house that served as our first chicken coop was alive with the squawks and struts of 25 young Aruacana hens known as the “Easter Egg Chickens” because of the pastel hues of blue, green, and sometimes pink on the eggshells.
Over the years, I’ve tried Rhode Island Reds (pretty but not very winter hearty up here), Barred Rocks (the ultimate hand peckers when you try to take their eggs), Silver Laced Wyandottes (nice birds, but we lost so many in the bobcat issue), and Partridge Rocks (big and beefy but with high combs that freeze easy). Currently, I’ve settled on three breeds that work well for our farm—and mixes thereof hatched from the incubator. These are the Aruacana (everyone likes to see a few green and blue eggs in their carton), Buff Orpington (sturdy and nice brown eggs, just skip the boys because of the large comb), and Light Brahma (a husky breed from India with feathered feet).
It’s always sorry times in the fall when it’s molting season. Egg laying dwindles down to a trickle, sometimes nothing, as the ladies grow their new feather coats for winter. Once everyone is tucked snugly in the brooder coop, though, we start the “light therapy” regime to help the ladies rebound from the darkening days. It takes a couple weeks to start to see the difference, but after a month in the cozy winter coop, we’re back in egg production.
Now I open the coop door in the morning to about 160 poultry faces, plus the 12 ducks eager to romp in the snow. I wade through the crowd, tossing chopped lamb suet or pig liver or old bread for them to scratch, tug, and devour. Flashing beaks grab bites and run off to corners with them. But there aren’t enough corners for all the chickens, so it’s tug-of-war, hide-and-seek, and the game of chicken parade, where one with a beak-full dashes about with the rest of the crew in hot pursuit.
While everyone is distracted by the goodies, I whip out the empty egg cartons under my arm to snatch away the day’s treasures. Over the years I’ve tried baskets (I’ve already shared that story of demise on the ice), ice cream buckets (which are easier to clean, but they can create issues of stacking pressure cracking the bottom eggs), but currently I’m using old egg cartons. They keep the eggs separated from one another, and they’re relatively easy to stack in my arms.
Since the light therapy has kicked in and the new girls in the coop have started laying their adorable pullet eggs, I’ve been bringing home five to six dozen a day. In the summertime, this wouldn’t last a morning at Farmstead Creamery, where folks will pile free-range eggs on the counter three or four at a time! But in winter, things have a way of slowing down. Gradually, at first, the eggs piled up in the walk-in fridge. Then came the holidays, with all the baking and cooking, and the stock thinned back out. But then this month, there are so many eggs it feels like they’re coming out of our ears!
No farmer’s market, which is a sure-fire way to move eggs. No bustling business of folks coming up to their cabins. We used to run an egg route, but with the shop, it’s harder to get away. Should we try to resurrect that outlet? In all likelihood, some other upstart farming enterprise had already found its way around town with a wheely cooler, so there must be another way.
It’s nice, to a degree, that life slows down in the winter. The bookkeeping needs to be done, which is no small task. There’s planning for the next season, paperwork, breeding schedules, event planning, website work, plus all the creative projects that had to be shelved in order to make it through the hectic summer season. But unless I turn those lights off in the chicken coop, the ladies don’t have any intention of slowing down their egg production!
We have this same conundrum with the aquaponics greenhouse. All summer, the market, the shop, and serving food at the café find a home for all the tasty leafy greens we grow in the big, fish-powered greenhouse next to the Creamery. In the winter, the year-round vegetable production continues to power our CSA program and the shop, but there’s plenty of extra. Last winter, we coordinated with the Chequamegon Food Co-op and Northland College to take the extra.
This year, we actually have a contract with the college for 200 heads of lettuce every other week through the winter. While I’d rather sell direct to friends and clients, having the assurance that my product has a home and won’t spoil during the slow season is a valuable safety net—plus the students at Northland College enjoy great local salads even when the closer-to-home producers are froze out. It’s a win-win for all of us, as we wait for the warming of spring to renew the traditional growing season.
So I looked at the mountain of eggs in the fridge and decided to send food service at the college an email. Maybe they were full up from other supplies, but maybe not. It was worth a try. Five minutes later, I had secured a home for 60 dozen eggs!
“60 dozen!?” Kelli, our CSA and wholesale drop-off aficionado chuckled on the phone when I shared the news. “I wonder what that will even look like.”
It was a full car-load last Wednesday for her, with big CSA boxes of veggies, bakery, diary, and meats. There were also Buying Club pantry good orders, plus four big boxes of eggs. “This is going to be an adventure!”
This week is a lettuce week for the College, so I’ll be out in the greenhouse, up to my elbows in vibrant yumminess. Last night I sent out another email and, sure enough, 40 dozen more eggs are being added to the school’s wish list. Woo-hoo chicken girls! It’s time to get a-scrubbin’ and send those brown and blue jewels on their way. Those are some pretty lucky students, and my sister Kara is sure going to be happy to have the space back in the cooler as well.
Don’t worry, it won’t take long to fill it back up again. Hmmm…I think it’s time for an omelet. See you down on the farm sometime.
