April 6, 2021 by Maggie McNeill
One of the any benefits of having chickens is never having to go out and buy eggs to color for Easter. Of course, sometimes friends ask for them too, and Jae has been on a quiche kick for the past few months, and I recently culled my laying hens, and the pullets won't start laying until summer, and some henhouse doofus broke an egg Sunday morning. That means right now, there are actually only four fresh eggs in my kitchen, which is a pretty rare occurrence. Of course, we have a whole basket of boiled eggs and a jar of pickled ones in the fridge, and I'm getting 3-4 a day from the four adult layers currently in the coop, so it won't be long before we start building up again; I never want to have to buy those pathetic, undersized, weeks-old store eggs with pale yellow yolks ever again. As I have aged, some things that in my youth I barely even thought about have become important parts of my self-care, and having a plentiful supply of fresh eggs is one of them.
