The thing about raising free-range chickens is that when they begin laying, they might not always choose the nesting box in the coop.

All our new chickens are old enough to be laying, but we haven’t seen an increase in egg production. This means the chickens have found other places to lay. This usually sorts itself out over the winter, as the snow forces the chickens to lay in the coop, and then it becomes habit. But until then? It’s a bit of a mystery.

Tom tipped us off that he kept seeing the easter egger, Jasmine, making a run for the pole barn in the morning, which is prime laying time. Neko led the charge, and off we went to hunt for eggs. I hadn’t even made it to the pole barn when they’d already found the stash.

We sent Ellery to retrieve the eggs, as she was little enough to wiggle her way in to the tight spot. We counted 15 gorgeous green eggs. Everyone was delighted and ran around, retelling the story and fighting over who got to carry the eggs back to the house. Not that we can eat them, as we have no idea how old they are, but, good golly, they look lovely on the counter.

Every now and then I bemoan how long it takes me to get to Target or that I don’t have every fantastic amenity at my fingertips. (Oh, to have good Thai food in our neck of the woods!) It is then I try to remember moments like these.

Mornings in muddy pajamas and boots, conquerers of a real life Easter egg hunt. Posing victoriously on the tractor, chicken in hand. Giggling at Mother Nature, and how she likes to keep us on our toes.

I realize they might end up city-dwellers one day, but I hope these little bits get woven into who they become. I hope that someday, while they wander amongst skyscrapers, every now and then they’ll chuckle about 15 green eggs, one rogue chicken, and a whole lot of laughter.