Canary Coop

I admit it. At first, it struck me as weird too. But then I realized how going to the chicken coop to “steal” eggs seems somehow perfectly pastoral, right? And normal.

We reach under their soft feathery tummies, grab their eggs (especially if there isn’t a rooster around), and never feel a bit of guilt. After all, isn’t that what chickens are for?

Side story. (Okay, I drift at times….) We invited a schoolbus load of kindergartners, accompanied by several parents, to the farm this past spring. I walked out holding my pet chicken and …

the little tykes all got out their cameras. No kidding. They all had cameras. And proceeded to interview me. Bright bunch of kids. Smarty-pants bunch of kids?

My housepet chicken, Ginger, had her little nappy on. “I’ll take questions now,” I say as I point to a 5-year-old.

“How does she lay eggs if she has a diaper on?”

“Good question. Does anyone else have a question?”

A little boy asks, “How do you get eggs without a rooster?”

“Thanks for coming today, kids, I’m working on the next issue of my magazine and running late, so I’m going to let your parents answer your questions. Enjoy your tour.”

Back to my lead story, because I decided NOT to be theirs.

I also have a canary coop. (I’m working on feeling comfortable with that.) Say it with me, canary coop.

At first, I felt bad taking the eggs that Daffodil lays. (When I am out of town, my grandgirls beg to canary-sit “Dappadil.”) But hey, I don’t blink an eye when it comes to gathering eggs from my bigger feathered friends—my chickens.

Green tomato/hot pepper/parsley omelet anyone? Just a bite.

And here’s the daily nutrition that makes my not-at-all contrary canary girl so productive and full of song. Steamed carrot, section of hard-boiled egg from one of her “bigger” sisters, broccoli, and kale from my greenhouse. Oh, and one of my grandgirls Nasturtium flowers.