Fancy Nancy Sits, Day 21
Today, the 21st day Fancy Nancy shifted to the side and gave a weird twist of her head. Oh please, I thought, let this be a frisky hatching egg, and not a sudden onset of wry neck. I lifted her side a bit and saw that one of the blue eggs had a beak sized poke in it. I spend the day putting together a very crude brooding area while she worked hard at puffing her feathers and making her little nest into a sauna. Then I left her alone for some peace and quiet. When I checked on her in the late afternoon I realized that those few hours are her last moments of peace and quiet for quite some time.
Yippee! And now we wait, to see if the other two eggs hold such miracles.
Fancy Nancy Sits
A kind friend has given me six fertile eggs. Fancy’s little chicken butt is too small for six eggs, so another friend has put two of them in her incubator. Today at 3:30 my son and I put the other four under Fancy. She is thrilled, we are thrilled.
Two Easter Eggers, one Salmon Faverolle and the last we think may be a Welsummer. I’m trying not to name them before they hatch. I know I have to be realistic about the odds, but I cannot help but feel giddy.
Just a quick side trip to my flower garden. Honestly, if I just let this thing go wild it ends up looking stunning to my untrained eyes, but there are weeds lurking in there, tenacious weeds that spread under all the loveliness. And if I don’t actually tend the garden (like I didn’t last year) then there is a crazy underground root system to deal with later, like now. One more season of neglect and everything I like best about this spot will get choked.
So this year I decided to really take it all on. Here’s what it looked like before I started. I swear there are pretty things hiding under the leaves.
After I removed most of the leaves I pulled what I could of those two terrible unidentified weeds (thank you Hori Hori) and chopped down a Sumac that was trying to take hold. It was a little odd taking the leaves off, since they do provide a natural mulch and compost of sorts, but I left the littler pieces and resolved to actually make leaf mulch this year. Plus, when I bought my composted soil for the raised beds, I got a cubic yard of composted tree mulch, so I knew I’d have something to add back once the soil was warm enough. (A quick preview here of our new beehive.)
I’m not quite done yet, but already there is such a difference. My girl helped me spread the mulch about at the bottom of the bed over the last few days. At first she was almost mixing it into the soil, and I was having little anxiety attacks while biting my tongue so as not to quash her enthusiasm. I took a deep breath and told her that the mulch was like frosting, and needed to be in a nice thick layer. That did it. She’s a mulch queen now. Cake similes are the way to go with my girl.
henopause: noun 1: A condition whereupon a woman senses the impending diminishing of her eggs, and begins to collect chickens, thus increasing the general egg production of the household. 2: The term I use to explain my new fascination with chickens and gardens.
Just a few photos of the empty raised beds as I placed and nudged them into place.