Our wandering turkey hens have returned home.
Honestly, we had not missed them too much. All the turkey hens do is take dust baths in newly sown areas of the garden and roost in the front of the barn at night, leaving turkey droppings.
The first chore in the morning is to take a shovel and scoop up the turkey poop to toss into the asparagus beds. The first 5 to 6 feet of the rows are well fertilized.
One day last week, my wife, Jenifer, and our kids, Ellie and Levi, had gone to the house of our neighbor, Ruth Smith, to pick blueberries and figs.
Ruth is in her 80s and has five huge blueberry bushes that are at least 25 years old and one fig tree. That is where we get the blueberries and figs we sell at farmers markets.
Anyway, Jenifer had spent the morning at Ruth's and spotted our missing turkey hens a half-mile up the road when she was on her way home for lunch. I was in the middle of making a tomato sandwich at the time.
We all piled in Jenifer's van – me, our farm helper Charles, Ellie and Levi. We headed to the main road and proceeded to walk the turkey hens the half-mile back home. We got them almost to the driveway when they went wacky and flew up in some big oak trees.
Close enough – they know where they are, and I needed a tomato sandwich and a glass of tea.
The chickens and the eggs
We call new eggs from first-time egg layers “pullet eggs,” but that is a misnomer. By definition, a chicken is a pullet until she lays her first egg, then she becomes a hen.
Anyway, we have started getting eggs from the new laying flock that we can sell at the farmers markets.
But we won't be letting people request eggs in advance. It will be first-come, first-served.
When we let people reserve eggs in the spring, it got to the point where we would have 40-50 dozen reserved. It was great to have pre-sold eggs, but I felt like the “egg Nazi” – if you weren't on the list, no eggs for you.