Months ago we got an urgent email that a flock of baby chicks needed a new home. That day, before the town wrote the flock owner another ticket for violations..."no chickens allowed in this town", fines compounding.
Baby chicks arrive in the midst of busy fall activities, end up in a mobile pen away from the rest of the flock, just because of timing.
The nine pens on one part of the farm and the one pen all by itself get moved closer to each other every day.
And then *poof, just like that, the refugees are making eggs. No roost installed, no nest boxes. How did they get so big so quick? How long have they been here?!
Long enough.
Last night at almost 6pm it was still light out. I ran to get the last of the days eggs and check on the pens. And there was another egg in that pen. "I'll just move the pen a bit." I thought. "Just slide a bit to the right" and wham, down I drop.
Yesterday it snowed, rained, sleeted, froze up, thawed out. All in about 12 hours. As the sun was setting the mud ran from front to back: most of the ground seemed solid, until my weight and the weight of the pen pushed against mushy ground.
Got the egg. It was tiny and muddy. Perfect for a quick rinse and breakfast for us.
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