We tentatively open the rickety door to the chicken coop — and catch in our breath.
There it is, lying right in front of us just barely a step inside, its light-colored shell in stark contrast to the dark dirt floor. An egg! A real egg!
While it seems an unlikely surprise in a henhouse, at that point finding an egg felt like a thing of the past, something to mention wistfully with that air of nostalgia embedded in “the good old days.” Our hens approached egg-laying during the winter with a lack of intentionality, which albeit characteristic of the colder months and of molting season, still always surprises and aggravates me. I take it personally, and the longer I go without finding eggs, the more my bitterness grows.
In fact, this year it got so bad that my petulance had some action accompany it. Instead of waiting it out like a wise farmer, I got so annoyed at continuing to feed my paltry poultry with nothing in return that I bartered part of my flock away out of spite; the day the guy came to pick up 15 or so hens (about half of them) was of course the day someone decided to lay an egg.
The strange thing about my frequent festering grudge against the hens is that it’s extremely shallow: the instant I collect a glorious, marvelous, eggceptional egg is the instant that everything is forgiven. I completely forget about any prior angst, looking at my chickens with a mother-hen indulgence.
But it was too late to go back on the trade, so the flock got smaller (and I got some incredible honey out of the deal so it did still work out well). It just means by default I couldn’t get many eggs whether they were laying or not.
To add to the disgruntling situation, we then discovered there was a predator on the loose. The ladies would lay eggs, and something would eat them. It didn’t seem to matter what time of day the kids and I would come collecting, for the culprit would have already come calling. I’m not sure which was more disappointing, to never find eggs or to only find broken eggshells.
We eventually put the pieces together that it was likely a whole team of thieves. We saw a skunk slinking around outside and got some trail cam footage of a raccoon inside, whereas the constant nature of the crime suggested a traitorous hen or even an oddly guilty cat. I was only rescuing an egg or two a week, which is not the goal of keeping chickens. I had to buy eggs, the ultimate insult.
But then. After at least a month of this new nonsense, things changed. Chickens from various sources kept being delivered to our coop, and our flock grew from fewer than 10 to more than 50.
This brought us to that magical moment of opening the coop door and finding an intact egg, of all things. But that wasn’t it, for we stepped inside and looked around, finding eggs all over the place. Benson discovered a clutch in the corner, exclaiming, “Mom! There must be a HUNDRED over here!” (There were at least five.) In that first day, we gathered more than the prior three months put together.
We call it an eggpalooza every time we collect eggs now. The hens have yet to lay a single egg in the actual laying boxes, but that just makes the egg hunt even more eggciting.
Simple Medium-Hard-Boiled Eggs
Sometimes the simplest techniques are more valuable than the most intricate recipes. And with the price of eggs (or of feeding 50 chickens…), a solid strategy is a good egg. There are more ways to hardboil an egg than hens in the coop, and I won’t say this is the Best of them all, but I don’t bother to try any other way since it just works. We all really enjoy hardboiled eggs, especially in the heat of summer; if Kiah spots any in the fridge, she starts yelling, “EGG! EGG!” and at that point you better hope they are hardboiled because they’re about to get cracked.
Prep tips: technically eggs that aren’t so fresh are easier to peel, since the semipermeable shells let in a little air between the membrane, but the flavor is so good we don’t mind a little messier peeling job. Overcooking is what yields that sulfurous gray ring around the yolk, so I try to avoid that.
• eggs, local/farm-raised if possible
• salt and coarsely ground black pepper
Gently place the eggs in a single layer in a saucepan, then cover with cold water by about an inch. Bring to a boil over high heat, then remove from heat and let set for 7-10 minutes, depending on how firm you prefer. Replace the hot water with ice water and let set a few minutes to cool. They will be easiest to peel when still slightly warm — I like to use a spoon to crack along the shell then scoop it out, easier to show than describe — but they taste best fully chilled, so you decide when to peel and eat. Just don’t forget the salt and pepper; that’s all you really need.
Amanda Miller lives with her husband, two young children, and whoever else God brings them through foster care on the family dairy farm in Hutchinson. She enjoys doing some catering, teaching cooking classes, and freelancing, but mostly chasing after her kids. Reach her at hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.
