I also loved the beautiful varied brown colored chicken eggs. However, I strenuously avoided interacting with the chickens.
A.) Because the Rooster was mean as a snake, and B.) because our chickens were territorial, guarding their little treasures most vigorously, and C.) because the little buggers seized every opportunity to peck at my heels, while throwing their fluffy wings wide & abusing me with the most infuriated fowl language, in an effort to herd me away.
This strategy worked wonderfully. I would inevitably throw the feed bucket on the ground and run screaming from the enclosure. (I’ve been told that as a child I often scared the wits out of my parents because I had an incredibly loud scream, in proportion to my size) This would always trigger a laughing fit from my Gramma, who probably had this end in mind the entire time. She would double over laughing at me, while I laughed and cried at the same time, mildly offended at both Gramma and the Rooster. Gramma Helen had an extremely mischievous bent of mind. But that is a story for another time. Afterwards, I could not be prevailed upon to go into the chicken coop, and the chickens were quite content to peck up the little feed kernels from a pile around the spilled bucket, while Rooster paced back and forth in front of me on the other side of the fence. He was the conqueror, and I was vanquished. He had my lasting respect, and in the story always gets a capital R. But I digress.
My point in mentioning the eggs was that, along with the mud pies, I secretly harbored a great desire to gather them up, and throw them against the barnyard wall. Why? I have no idea, other than I thought it would be smashingly good fun. Kids are weird. I was no exception.
However, when I grew older and developed a modicum of common sense, I realized the mama chickens were well within their rights to have their feelings ruffled and that they were much more gentle than I thought, if one was behaving herself. I no longer wanted to smash the eggs, but I greatly admired the eggs for another reason.
If you’re like me, being a creative, and you positively LOVE the beauty and variety of color of farm fresh chicken eggs, then you may also have wondered WHY they are different colors. According to scientists, all chicken eggs start out white as they’re formed. Then, depending on the type of chicken breed(genetics), color on the shell is deposited as the egg passes through the oviduct. This process only takes about 26 hours. There are chickens that lay eggs that are white, pink, black, brown, speckled, blue, olive green, surprise colors, and Easter egg colors among others. According to a 2013 article by Dorothy Munn, at the Michigan State University Extension Office, within the color group produced by each breed of chicken, those colors can vary greatly from bird to bird, while the eggs themselves are essentially the same inside. However, diet influences the taste of the eggs greatly. Which is why those of us In-The-Know know that farm fresh, free range eggs taste the best, because the chickens receive a more varied diet. In all sincerity though, I probably wouldn’t like to try a black egg. Just cause. I saw a hard boiled one, it looked gross, Don’t judge.
If you are interested in learning more about eggs or chickens and what color eggs they lay, check with your local extension office. There are also several great blogs and articles online that provide a lot of information for beginners. 4-H is also a great program for children who would like to learn more about chickens, farming, and gardening,
If you’re interested in obtaining farm-fresh eggs, without the obligation of raising your own chickens, you’re in luck! Just contact Michael or Zach through our Facebook page to place an order. Trust me, after tasting ours, you’ll never buy store bought eggs again.
Greeting from the farm.
Peace & Blessings,