Easter eggs at the farm
(@ goose poop farm)
An Easter egg hunt is every day here. My inner kid loves it! With all the trials and tribulations of making ends meet, my enjoyment for the day is collecting eggs.
The chickens are so creative and will lay every where there is not a nest box. My work bench is in the barn. Everyone has a box or a can of miscellaneous nails, screws and bolts. I fall in the category of having a box. You guessed it; the chicken is laying in my nail box. Who would have ever thought!!!! They keep me on my toes. If the egg count is down, I need to look harder. One likes to lay on a feed sack in the base of an old milk house sink, another on a window ledge, and flower pots are a big hit here at the farm. It's always an adventure.
Nature is wonderful - creating green, brown, rose, and the rare white egg of the Cornish cross, who weighs more than a turkey with a name (Boom Boom), gentle and will never be chicken dinner.
Goose eggs: the geese will bury their eggs in the straw. They don't fit in a egg box and are difficult to store. Six eggs will fit in a jumbo carton. What to do with a goose egg? Talking with a friend in the city, I had to admit I was a little hesitant to eat my first goose egg. I guess it's the fear of the unknown. My only memory of goose eggs are of my Grandma O'Kane making brownies when the goose lays. (Geese only lay a 100 eggs a year compared to some chickens who lay close to 300 a year) I had never had a fried goose egg!
Frying pan in hand, I feel bad about cracking the egg and not blowing it out to decorate. Oh well, I have more in the fridge.
Breakfast for me is fried onions and potatoes from last season's garden. The goose egg fried with runny orange yoke. Mmmm. Hell's kitchen could not have created a better breakfast and it's mine to enjoy.
We tread lightly on the land and reap its rewards.