What do wet ducklings, fluffy organic chickens and eggplant steaks have in common? Absolutely nothing.

Once upon a time it was raining outside. Everyone inside was reading books, studying, playing quietly, screaming loudly, making messes exuberantly, and cooking meals that didn't have rice or beans in them (miracle, I know!).

Turns out the now very plump ducklings love rain and puddles and everything water. They are ducks, after all. What I didn't expect is for the chickens to love the rain. But they do. And when they ruffle up their feathers to shed all the water droplets (think shaking like a dog, chicken style), I almost die of the cuteness.

That's not to say I haven't been craving some Rosti Pollos lately. These chickens are devouring my gardens at astonishing speeds. I am not sure what compelled them to it, but the chickens have been jumping (did you know they can jump?) over the cages into my gardens and eating everything in sight. Grilled chicken is sounding really good to me at the moment.

My lovely and only eggplant, that ended up as chicken food :-(

But alas, it cannot be! We are now cooking all vegetarian (not to be confused with vegan - we still enjoy our dairy products and free range eggs!) at home in an effort to save some money. Because here's the deal - if we are going to eat meat at home, it's going to be organic, grass fed, free range, etc. Basically, we are done living in blissful ignorance about our food and we want to know the farmer (if it's not us). Think Portlandia, obviously.

Ok, never mind.

Anyway, since the price of organic chicken is rather, well, pricey (because treating your animals right and feeding them well tends to be more humane and costly), and since we are trying to save our pennies right now, we cut the meat out of our home diet. I say our "home diet" because while we aren't eating out very much currently, we will eat meat if it is served in others homes or if they bring it into ours. But otherwise, eggplant is the new in season steak.

Speaking of eggplant, Eggplant Parmigiana with fresh tomato and basil marinara is on the menu for this evening, crying out to be prepared.

**Tune in next time to read all about how your children and your parenting are probably way better than mine in the coming post, "The Epic Bedtime Battles!"**

In which we witness an egg being "birthed" and Chubby gets a cheer

Today Lexi and I got to witness the coolest thing. Well, "coolest thing" being relative to whether you like this sort of farm "event" or not. I was opening the egg doors to collect eggs this morning and noticed one of our Buffs, Chubby, to be exact) was standing up inside the nest box with her rear end facing me. I won't gross you out by describing exactly what I saw, but a midst all the fluffy rear plumage that our Buffs are so blessed with, I knew in a split second that Chubby was about to lay her egg! Standing up! Is this common for chickens? Maybe it was too hot in there to sit or something, I don't know.

Anyway, I am beyond thrilled (because I really love this sort of thing - why I have lived my entire life in the big cities - with the exception of a five year jaunt in Capron, IL- and don't live on a real farm I am still trying to figure out) and call Lexi to come see what is happening. I tell Lexi to be super quiet so we don't scare Chubby while we crack open the egg door and peek in.

And slowly, a little at a time, and much like giving birth (almost exactly, actually), the egg starts to emerge from the ovum. "MAMA!!!!" Lexi whispers excitedly (it's actually more like whisper yelling, but hey, she tried), "THE EGG IS COMING OUT!!!!!!"

And then it plops out all at once and hits the floor of the nest box with a small commanding thud. Lexi picks it up. "IT'S WET!!!" she squeals and puts it down. We wait three seconds while it dries and then she picks it up again. "OOOOOOOooooo, IT'S SOOOoo WARM! THANKS FOR THE EGG, CHUBBY! GOOD JOB LAYING IT!"

And the moral of the story is, everyone needs a cheerleader. Even chickens. ;-)

**Don't forget to enter the giveaway for Real Food for the Real Homemaker! Click HERE for the details and to enter the contest.**

City yard, barn yard

Our city yard is both play yard and barn yard at the same time. This tends to startle all the neighbors that walk by the front and do hilarious double takes when they glance over and see chickens and ducks hanging out by the fence (much to our amusement - and theirs!). But walking by the back door and seeing a chicken up on the steps looking inside the house and pecking at the door is pretty normal to us by now. (And Lyla was having a dramatic moment, don't judge my pantless child).

What's not normal for us is dealing with life and death on a daily basis. Last week we lost six of our ducklings. We have theories of why six of them suddenly died, but no real explanation. We made some quick changes to their food and water and thankfully, the rest are doing well now, leaving us with a total of seventeen ducklings. Even though the plan is for them to end up on our dinner table anyway, it just doesn't feel quite the same when we are burying them as babies. It's just plain SAD.

Thankfully, there is always something to be excited about, even with the sadness of the ducklings passing. The first thing is that Lexi can't count past four, so after the first one died, she never knew about the other five. The second thing is that several of our chickens are now laying daily, giving us three eggs a day right now. Lexi is OBSESSED with checking the nest boxes all day long and lets out squeals and screams of delight whenever she retrieves one from the nest. 

Our chickens have also become much "friendlier" since they have reached maturity and we can catch and hold them fairly easily now. Lexi takes advantage of this daily, and makes sure to croon original songs and kiss them while burying her face in their soft feathers whenever possible. ;-)

August is for Tomatoes!

 August is tomato month. My cherry tomatoes are finally ripening. We are picking about a pint or more every day, and eating them at astonishing speeds. My beefsteaks are still solid green. Hoping for those a little later in the month.

 This silly kid LOVES cherry tomatoes! Our favorite part of the afternoon is going outside to pick our snack.

And life wouldn't be our life without silly animals to constantly amuse. Here we have our fowl flower.

 Guess what?

...Fluffy chicken butts!

It's Almost Time

I open my eyes to a grey ominous sky lurking just past my bedroom curtains. A chilly breeze blows in the window and I shrink underneath the blankets so only my nose is showing. There goes the beach plans for the day. Isn't it supposed to be the hottest part of summer right now? Maybe I should start reading the weekly forecast.

I slide out of bed and walk out into the living room. Eric and Lexi are already up. Lexi munching on crackers and sitting in front of the old stereo, listening to her Jungle Jam stories with the volume turned low. Eric sits beside her on the couch, working on his laptop. I decide to take a shower quick before the baby wakes up and I lose my chance.

The water is warm and I am lost in my thoughts. The citrusy smell of my shampoo seems to have that effect. I'm in the middle of shaving one leg when Eric bursts through the bathroom door. "BETH, I HAVE AN EGG!!"
I stop shaving. "A chicken egg?" genuinely curious.
"NO! A duck egg!"
"Wait...to eat? Did yogurt finally lay an egg?" Clearly I am confused.
"NO! One of the duck eggs THAT'S ABOUT TO HATCH!!! Better hurry it up if you want to see it while I have it out!"
"Okay, okay! Wait, I'm coming!"

We have been waiting for this day for what seems like forever! The date circled on the calendar is still a few days away, but we are still within the 32-37 day range. It could be any day now.

I jump out of the shower, one leg shaved, the other one neglected, and with water dripping everywhere I hastily grab the nearest thing to a towel I can find. A bathrobe in a size 12 months. Awesome. I dry the best I can, streak to the bedroom, throw on some clothes and then slip and slide back down the hall and into Lexi's bedroom where the two of them wait breathless.

I look at Lexi. Her mouth is stuffed and overflowing with crackers. Really? Maybe I was mistaken on the breathless part.
I look at Eric. His eyes are glowing with excitement. He holds a smooth, glossy duck egg cradled in his hand. It is the color of cream and warm, oh so warm to the touch. The room is dark, except for the one small light that we cover with a piece of PVC pipe to candle the egg. We have been candling eggs since the beginning. About once or twice every week, we wait until one of the moms gets off the nest for food, and then sneak an egg out of the nest box. Then the three of us (and sometimes Lyla, but she probably just thinks we're weird) crowd into the darkest room of the house, which happens to be Lexi's bedroom, turn on the small light, hold the egg against the pipe and assess the egg's development.

But today is different. Today is the day we have been waiting for for weeks now.
"Look," he breathes.
I look.
There inside the egg, all illuminated with light, I can see a rough shape and thump of a tiny heart beating.
Miracle.
And there, there in the space of the egg that is filled with light and oxygen, is a tiny beak. It has broken out of its sack and is breathing air, today for the very first time.
Miracle.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
I hold my breath.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
I gently take the egg, cradling it my hands.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
In my hands, I feel it moving. There inside it's creamy white shell, I see the beak tapping at the walls of its confines. I feel it hitting the shell over and over in a steady rhythmic fashion.
I hold it to my ear.
Miracle.
Tap Tap Tap Tap
"It wants to come out!" I squeal like a toddler, overwhelmed with excited. "It wants to come out! It's going to hatch!!!"
Lexi finally swallows her crackers. "I'M SO ECITED!!!" She yells, missing the X and not caring. "THE BABY DUCKWINGS ARE GOING TO HATCH!!! THEY'RE GOING TO HATCH!!!" She dances around the dark room.
"It could still take a few days," Eric warns, "but I would bet this one will be out in around 24 hours. I need to go put it back in the nest."
"I love it so much," I croon, still holding the egg to my ear, feeling like a proud mama. But I'm not the mama this time. Oreo and Cookies & Cream have made that much clear, and I'm find with that, trust me. The last thing I need is 27 ducklings following me around peeping like crazy. But all the same, my heart swells. It might burst.
Miracle.

Beauty today, love today, and joy today is holding an egg in my hands. An egg filled with the movements and the promise of a brand new life within. Miracle.

More to come as the ducklings begin to arrive!

Farewell, Mr. Doodle

Meet Mr. Doodle, Crower extraordinaire. 

Last evening, when Eric got home from work, he went over to our neighbor's house - the one with the rooster. The rooster was tethered to the old swing set in the yard. He was super friendly, much easier to handle then one of our young hens (who put up quite a fuss when we attempt to catch them) and turned out to have several years under his belt...err...feathers (you can tell their age by their spurs). Apparently the guy who brought him home found him wandering around....somewhere...(we still aren't clear on this part of the story - perhaps lost in translation?) and hasn't had any real food for him this whole time (he probably wasn't starving with the grass, but was most likely used to a heavier grain based diet).

Eric talked with them for a while, offered to help find a new owner out in the country, and then brought them over to check out our birds and give them some food for their poor lost country soul of a rooster.

Today, Javier (the same boy who came over yesterday) returned with the food, saying that his dad had already found a home for Mr. Doodle somewhere out in Indiana. I asked if Mr. Doodle had already left, to which he replied yes.

[insert sigh of relief here]

Peace reigned. 

The birds chirp, the cicadas hum, planes soar overhead, flies buzz, cars drive by, the ducks peep (yes, they peep), chickens cluck and chirrup, and in the distance a rooster crows. 

...wait....

...and again. 

Maybe the hunt isn't quite over yet...

Also, in case you're wondering, Chicago folks are ga-ga about backyard chickens. They have all these special online forums for city chicken raisers and there is even a special once a year Windy City Coop Tour every September! Watch out - our coop just might be on the list this fall. 

The Case of the Crowing Rooster

Our chicks back in April, just a few days old on Easter Sunday

Backyard city chickens are fun. Free lawn fertilizer, speedy hands-off compost production, and endless entertainment. Quiet, goofy, and worth their weight in eggs (we hope).
 City roosters, on the other hand....not so much.

A few days ago, I was out in the yard with my girls taking care of the chickens and tending the garden. Lexi and Lyla were playing with the hose and giggling in the cool spray. That's when I heard it. The unmistakable crow of a young rooster.
Lexi heard it too.
"MOM!" she shouted. "Did you hear that? I think it was a ROOSTER!!!" (This girl does know her animal calls, city born and raised as she is).

The next day, we kept hearing it again. And again. And again.
This rooster went from crowing a few times a day to rapidly gaining in confidence and blasting us with a doodle-doo EVERY FIVE MINUTES.

I told Eric that night and we resolved to find it. Not that I mind the crowing so much (I mean, I did live in Mexico city for a few years and woke up every day at sunrise to our neighborhood macho rooster), but roosters in the city give backyard chickens a really bad rap. It's people who have roosters in the city who end up getting chickens banned, due to the noise and irresponsibility. You simply CAN'T raise roosters in the city. Period. Neighbors will complain and the whole thing will get shut down.

I've been on rooster hunt since the first crow. And today, the dude really is ruffling my feathers (forget about his). He broke the five minute interval rule and is now crowing as frequently as he can grab breath! AGH!

I'm laying down in my room trying to rest between his obnoxious belting (at my house, we ALL take naps at naptime - no exceptions), when the doorbell rings. This sets the dog barking, the rooster still crowing, and me- yelling at the dog to "BE QUIET!!! IF YOU WAKE UP THE KIDS I WILL.....!!!" -stumbling to the front door half asleep.

There is a young Latino boy standing there, probably eleven or twelve years old.
"Hi Ma'am, I was wondering, do you want to buy our rooster?"

I laugh aloud. "It's YOUR rooster that I keep hearing?"

"I think so, yeah." He looks sheepish, possibly embarrassed by his pet's countrified behavior.

"He just started crowing the other day, didn't he?"

"Yeeeaah." He sighs. "You name the price and he's yours."

I give the boy credit. He came to my door on his father's request (most likely as the English speaking spokesperson of the family), in an attempt to find a solution to get rid of the crowing bird, and further proving our suspicion that everyone in the neighborhood knows us as being the "Chicken House." I love it. Any time anyone walks by our house, they stop and gawk at the chickens, who have taken to hanging out all day under the hedge that lines the chain link fence in the front of the yard. Kids especially love to stop and get really close to the fence to have a chat with the feathered ladies, and if Eric is outside, he will almost always catch one and bring it out front for the kids to pet and see up close. If you are ever looking for creative ways to get to know the neighbors, get ten chickens and make them visible to the public eye. Being introverts, Eric and I are ever looking for someone else to make the first contact anyway. ;-)

Late May, and we have an almost hen

Back to Mr. Doodle.

I got the dad's cell phone number and address (turns out they live right across from the alley from us just two doors down) and promised to call after my husband and I talked about it. The boy emphasized again that all we had to do was name the price. These guys are desperate. I then promptly called Eric and told him the whole story. Case closed. Mystery rooster found. We were so adamant about finding that rooster (we were going to go hunting for him tonight), and in the end, the owners (no doubt annoyed and exasperated with all the vocal flaunting) ended up coming to us at the chicken house. Because surely WE would know what to do with him!

No, we will NOT be introducing the Mister to our lovely flock of ladies. The LAST thing we need around here is a boisterous flamboyant male messin' with the ten women and makin' chickies. We are already in over our heads with an addition of four Muscovy ducks and approximately TWENTY-SEVEN ducklings due to hatch in the next few days!

If we do buy him, we will do one of three things: 1) Eat very well this week, 2) Relocate him to a farm that is a little more welcoming of the vocal type - in other words, get this country boy out of the city, or 3) Come up with some other creative solution. It remains to be seen what his fate will be...

If you lived in the city and were offered a rooster, what would YOU do?