You can philosophize all you want about whether the egg came first or the chicken, but if you’ve ever raised chicks you already know the answer: the chicken.  After umpteen (sixteen) weeks of feeding the Kevins and cleaning up after the Kevins and waiting for a return on our investment, we have our first egg.  Found it tonight and broke into spontaneous dancing and caterwauling.  It’s only one and it’s really small, but it’s here.  Our egg.

Now we have two roosters for sale to a good home (who are we kidding, we’d sell them to KFC if it meant some peace in the morning).  Not only are they starting to mount our girls, they also are fertilizing the eggs, it’s what they do, so that every time we cook one we’ll wonder if we aren’t performing a little chicken abortion.  So if you are interested in a really pretty Araucana rooster or an equally handsome Wyandotte or some little chicken tenders for dinner next week, let us know.  Until then we’ll be out in the coop.  Harvesting eggs and being real.

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