Easter Eve! And tomorrow children will be coloring and hunting those symbols of new life…eggs! Eggs clean and white from the store. But I wonder how many have ever gone into a shadowy chicken house and searched through straw-filled nests in a quest for eggs?
On the farm, that was my job. Going to get the eggs was a chore done at the end of the day but before the sun set. There were two reasons for gathering the eggs before dark: chickens go to bed early and entering their domain after they had snuggled in for the night could cause a mighty squawking and flapping of wings. A chicken house is a scary place after sunset and it’s unnerving to grope blindly inside a nest expecting to feel a smooth, round egg and instead feel the smooth, cold skin of a black snake. Snakes like eggs as much as people do. So, it’s a good idea to go get the eggs when a person can see what she’s doing.
Chickens have the reputation of being feather-brained, bird-brained or some other term meaning they’re not really deep thinkers but hens are dedicated mothers. If a hen and her brood of chicks is caught out in a rain or a hawk sails overhead, she will squat down on the ground, spread her feathers and call her babies to come quickly. Nothing is much cuter than the downy head of a baby chick peeking from under its mother’s wing.
Years ago, people put fertile eggs under hens to hatch out a new batch of baby chicks. The hen had to be in the mood to dedicate about 3 weeks to sitting on the eggs to keep them warm. My grandmother would sometimes put duck eggs under a mama hen who would dutifully sit until the ducklings cracked open their shells and tumbled into the springtime. The only problem with this was that the ducklings loved water. Their mamas did not. This is a quote from my book, The Heritage of Etta Bend: The hens were good mothers but their babies drove them crazy. The ducklings refused to follow them, so the anxious hens tagged along after their web-footed broods. When the babies discovered the spring branch, they joyfully jumped in for a swim. Their frantic mothers dashed up and down the bank, calling them, but the ducklings waddled onto dry ground only when they were ready.
Anyway, farm life offered lots of opportunities for learning about animals and their habits. Those eggs children hunt for tomorrow will have come straight from the store to their homes. But I remember gathering eggs from a shadowy chicken house and hoping I didn’t encounter a black snake who liked eggs too.
Sometimes my “northern” grandma would send me into the little garage to gather the chicken eggs in the afternoon and I hated it! You are right about them being dedicated mothers…they sure didn’t trust a young girl who came into their domain! They watched me carefully with their beady little eyes as I approached their nest boxes. They got somewhat more animated the closer I got until their whole head was involved, including their quick, pointy beaks! I don’t really remember ever getting pecked, but every time I was SURE it was going to happen! Not to mention all the noise and flapping of wings! For me, that was deterrent enough! Gram usually went instead.
Missy, I got a good laugh out of your email. Your Aunt Linda would sympathize entirely. The only way she likes chicken is fried or in dumplings and the reason is the same as yours. Her grandma would send her to gather eggs and she was scared of those hens with pointy beaks and beady eyes. I remember being afraid to check under a hen that wanted to “set” or become a mother. Sometimes Mom would not want her to hatch a brood and I’d have to get the eggs from under that feathered menace. She’d “warn” me with a scolding noise, fluff up her feathers and get that pointy beak ready to strike. I didn’t argue and, like you, Mom would wind up getting eggs from under those wannabe mothers.