Chickens ARE the new black.

I think it's safe to say that the ladies have officially been welcomed to the neighborhood. 

 

And as style icons, no less! The lovely folks as Bernalwood all but cemented three tiny stars on the Cortland walk of fame for our little hens. Okay, well maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm certainly delighted at the attention. It won't belong before we see their names in lights, but for the time being let's keep those eggs coming! Thanks Bernalwood!!

Happy Birthday Mr. Baker!

And then there were two.

The second egg has arrived! It's a little bigger than the first, and let me say... I had to work for it.

I was opening up the coop this morning to fetch the newly laid egg, and Checkers darted out into the yard. With sleep in my eyes and my pajamas still on, I chased that little bird around the yard for a good five minutes before grabbing her and tossing her back into the run. I'm sure it would've been rather amusing had there been an audience. I love having the ladies roam around in the yard, but they get a taste of freedom and crave more and more. And they're fast.

At any rate, Mr. Baker and I had a ceremonious feast for our first eggs. We fried up some Niman Ranch center-cut bacon and fried those huevos preciosos in melted butter.

The eggs were scrumptious. And we're certainly not biased. At all. Rich, buttery and yolky: NOM!

Lay, lady, lay.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have lift off! This afternoon, I was introducing my mom to the ladies, and lo and behold, I found a little gift. I sorta knew something was up, because R.E.D. was screeching her head off all morning. Mr. Baker and I will share a tiny feast tomorrow for breakfast. Very tiny.

You've lost that laying feeling...

Mr. Baker and I are some well-read parents when it comes to the little ladies. We recently came upon some sage advice about how to encourage hens to lay eggs. I have been known to say that the hens had better put out, or get out, but as the days go by I'm becoming surprisingly attached to the little pea-brains. So in an effort to help encourage that laying feeling, we placed a little encouragement in the nesting box yesterday.

Alas, this is NOT a real egg. It's a wooden egg (lemons included for size), which the hens immediately shunned as an impostor and rolled out of the nest. Rascals!

It's official. We're free ranging up in here.

We let the girls out for a few hours today, and while they first had to be booted out of the coop, they were in hog heaven after they realized the bounty of weeds and bugs to be nommed.

I also managed to get the fraidy cat, Garuda, out. She was coop-bound, taking the rare opportunity to gorge herself on the unguarded feed while the larger ladies were roaming around.

Meet the Motley Crew

Last Sunday, we started a family. We picked up our three little ladies in Livermore at the Bay Area Hay and Feed, brought them home in the back seat of my car (in a cardboard box, of course), and let 'em loose in their new home.

Without further ado, let's meet these hot chicks:







This is the Notorious R.E.D. She's a Rhode Island Red and about a year old. She's a thug and the queen of the coop. She doesn't like the other birds even looking in the general direction of her tasty treats.

This is Checkers Gridiron Baker. She's a Barred Plymouth Rock and around seven to nine months old. She's really curious, and is itching to explore the back yard.

Then there's Garuda. <sigh> She's the coop bitch at only five months old and 2/3 the size of Notorious. She's a purty Ameraucana, and will supposedly lay blue-shelled eggs (if she doesn't die of starvation or pecking by the other two hens). She's a bit of a fraidy cat (with good reason), and is seen here jumping to the rafters of the run to get out of R.E.D.'s way.