WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS … EGGS!

After the worst heat wave and drought on record this summer, two days of rain around autumn equinox flooded the Dawgranch with six inches of relief. Tomatoes I hadn’t pulled up rebloomed, the three remaining okra dwarfs burst out with three buds where only one would normally be, the puny Serrano plants are drooping from so many new peppers, there’s a lawn where I spread grass seed in the wake of the chicken tractor and — the chickens have cooled off enough to lay their first eggs.

I have no way of knowing which of them are contributing short of a motion detector/surveillance camera rig, because I still cannot tell the sex of any of the six birds I feed and observe every day. Their combs are all very undeveloped compared to the older hens free ranging for a couple of years, but otherwise they are slimmer versions of their seniors. Maybe I didn’t get any roosters. I guess a cock-a-doodle-do ringing out some dawn will settle that.

NOT A ROOSTER IN SIGHT

CAN YOU TELL THEY'RE GREEN?


EMBRYOS ABOUT TO JOIN MY GALAXY


THE FOUR EGG OMELET I WAITED SIX MONTHS TO EAT
YUMMMMMMMM!