27 February, 2009
I should be cooking dinner. Fish pie. But I'm going to write some random thoughts about chickens instead. I can see how people become chicken fanciers - though I do wish they could choose another word for it. Fancying chickens just sounds a little odd, if not indeed warped. We now have seven chickens, three types. And there really is no justification for getting more as that would involve another house and more eggs than I or my chicken-sharer Sue would know what to do with. But I would really like a Buff Orpington because they look so nice. Oh, and a Legbar because they lay blue eggs. Wow. Never see that colour in the shops. Which I suppose means they don't lay enough to make it commercial but there is something lovely about a blue egg. And having spent a winter wondering what the point of the Marans was as they were eating huge quantities of food and annoying my other chickens, I now see that they lay beautiful dark brown shiny eggs. Shiny in a way that the Black Rock and Light Sussex eggs are not. I know the inside of the egg is basically the same but these eggs look so lovely. So I am in fact an egg fancier, which is possibly even weirder than a chicken fancier.