At Last

garlic, garden

Sunday morning.  The garlic was sprouting nicely at the Hacienda del Hosta, but I decided it could use a little more mulch.
baby, backyard, chickens, urban chickens, backyard chickens

It was also time to clean out the chicken coop.  The Kid flirted with Etta, as I collected my pooper-scooper (snow) shovel and bag of fresh pine shavings.
urban chickens, backyard chickens, buff orpington, coop

But when I opened the coop door, Tori was in the nest box.  I was on a bit of a tight schedule, so coming back in half an hour was not an option.  Although I was perfectly willing to clean around her, this was not acceptable to Ms. Tori.  

With some salty language and flapping feathers, she let me know that my housekeeping activities were most unwelcome.  She huffed out of the coop and went to sit on the outside ledge of the nest box until I was done.
backyard chickens, urban chickens, bantam, bantam egg

While cleaning, however, I found a treasure.  Earlier that morning, I heard an "I'm dying" squawk that I have come to associate with one of my ladies laying a first egg.  I didn't understand it, until I found this tiny egg.

It was a bit dirty, but a float test revealed that it was quite fresh.  While Sweet Husband at first mused that it might be from a small wild bird, it can only be Ms. Etta James' first egg.
backyard chickens, urban chickens, bantam, bantam egg
We quickly took it inside and cracked it into a hot skillet.  It didn't have a yolk.  I'm not sure if that's always the way Etta's eggs will be, or if she's just working up to it.  Sweet Husband joked that if she always lays tiny, yolk-less eggs, we should market them as some sort of mini, gourmet, egg-white only eggs.  

Carrying the joke along, I plated this one up "fancy" for silliness.  It made three bites--one for each of us.