The World is My Nesting Box

Somebody has been skipping the nesting box.  We have a pretty awesome one, with a little red privacy curtain, and soft material to lay on, and a gentle little ramp that safely rolls the just-laid eggs away (from being crushed, or pooped on, or sat on by a broody hen) to an easy-open door where we can collect them.

Well, we think it’s awesome.  And most of the hens agree.  But we could tell we were not getting the full complement of eggs.  That means somebody had found a spot she likes better.

We’ve been searching it out.  We have found the occasional egg tucked under the barn stairs, or in the odd corner.  But then today, as my Mom and I were doing baby chick glamour photography in the sun by the barn wall, my Mom suddenly said, “Should we do something with all these eggs?”



“What eggs?”


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