One of the most frequent questions I get asked about farm life (other than the being single aspects) is what my daily farm life is like. This happened last week:
I was wondering what happened to the egg production when it suddenly came to a screeching halt. This is always fishy behavior this time of year. Annually, after winter solstice passes, egg production immediately kicks into gear.
The cease in production could easily be my egg stealing dog, Luca, but I didn’t think it was him…this time. So I set off on a egg finding adventure. I looked everywhere – all the usual places the girls try to hide – under the porch, in boxes, under bushes. Nothing.
I wasn’t willing to give up my adult Easter Egg hunt so easily. So, using a headlamp (not an attractive image, I know) I peered in every cubby hole that usually freaks me out…chickens will hide their stash anywhere. Even rafters, on hard spots, in areas where you wonder how they defied the laws of gravity – truly. I’ve found eggs teetering on wood scraps in precarious spots and so many odd places.
After I looked in the low spots I turned my attention to looking in higher areas. Then I discovered their secret nest high in the straw bales. I actually heard myself say: YASSSS!
It was a spring-colored mother lode. Not a bad haul, I’d say:
This isn’t an uncommon behavior for chickens. Probably three times a year I find I have to go on an egg hunt. Some times are more fun than others. I hate it when they lay under the house deck. Crawling on my stomach in muck isn’t my idea of fun. I prefer a spa day.
What happens when the girls pull this stunt and stop laying in their nest boxes? They get locked in the coop on the next rainy day – preferably two days in a row so they have no choice but to lay where I can easily find them. 
