Cambria
Jocelyn: She’s so beautiful!
Gail: That’s a rooster.
Jocelyn: Oh. He’s so beautiful. (embarrassed laughter)
……………………..
Although I love eggs, I am not exactly a farm girl and know nothing about hens. I buy my eggs local and organic, usually at the grocery store- in the summer from a local farmer’s market. But never from a hen whose name I know.Given all my foodie adventures, I decided this should change.
I visited my friend Gail, who raises chickens with her mother Sandy at their home in Killingworth, Connecticut.
Kokopelli and Gail, bundled up for winter
Gail and I went to elementary and high school together. We were in band together; she played the soprano saxophone and I played the tuba. More than twenty years later (thanks to Facebook…) I know her better than I did then. And I am very grateful for this.
Gail’s mother Sandy won her family’s first chickens thirty five years ago in a local Lions Club raffle: two roosters in a cardboard box, a “Chicken Dinner for Two.” Needless to say, Sandy didn’t serve the roosters for dinner, and those roosters marked the beginning of a new era in their house. She and her daughter now raise a variety of mixed breed and heritage poultry.
Gail’s choices in the hens she buys are largely inspired by their colors. She points to an older hen named Penguin and tells me ”I love her. She’s part Milli Fleur- but she came out a totally different color -black and white. Her relatives and ancestors are usually tan color.” There is great affection in her voice. The array of colors in the coop reminds me of an artist’s palette. Gail shows me her favorite breeds in a heritage poultry catalogue, noting their colors and personality idiosyncrasies- Australorp, Black Japanese, Brahma, Speckled Sussex, Welsummer, Lakenvelder, Blue Andalusian… I learn that different breeds produce different colored eggs. The eggs Gail gives me to take home are shades of pink, brown, blue, tan and white. She carefully labels each egg with a post-it so I know which hen laid each egg.While Sandy, Gail and I talk, Rosie Quartz (one of the “girls”) lays a small blush egg in the hay. Unlike commercial hens who lay every day, their twelve egg-laying hens are affected by the season and the weather. On a great day they can get eight eggs. On a cold winter day, maybe two.
Neither Gail nor Sandy has ever eaten an egg. They look horrified when I ask them why, telling me they hate everything about the thought of eating an egg-the texture, taste, smell… Sandy remembers with repulsion the coddled eggs on toast her mother served her as a child. She tells me “I wouldn’t eat an egg if you paid me.” Somehow, this makes sense.
Batik
Their hens and roosters are family. They knowingly refer to “The hatch of ’96″- and “The group of Ten.” Their chickens are named with care and cleverness, and catalogued in notebooks: Xena, Simile, Callum, Cambria, Batik Bubba, Elster (“Our best layer ever”), Suede, Comet, Calico and Kokopelli, named for a Southwest myth. Each generation has a few stars.
Iolaus
The oldest star in the family, a rooster named Kazimir, lies cradled in blankets in a bed in Sandy and Gail’s house. Gail gently lifts his head from a pillow and pets his head with tenderness. Kazimir is in the final days of his life. He has lived well beyond the average age for a rooster. Well-cared for roosters can live up to ten years. Kazimir is almost fourteen years old. Gail and Sandy have at least six chickens over the age of ten.
Mank, Gail. "Tall Boys," pencil, c. 2012
Gail is a talented artist- she uses colored pencils to draw sweet, intimate- detailed portraits of her chickens.
Mank, Gail. "Chakotay as a Baby," pencil, c. 2000
Mank, Gail. "Chakotay as Rooster," pencil, c. 2000
She is also a writer, penning (and illustrating) children’s stories about her poultry. The titles alone are enchanting: “Without a Feather to Her Name: The Story of Panne,” “Peacock Blue; Peahen Green.” The former about a refined velvet vest Gail and Sandy made for their hen Panne when she was born without feathers, the latter about an unexpected visit from peacocks. Gail’s stories should be in bookstores.
Gail and her own handmade cloth chickens
Gail proudly shows me the lovely cloth chickens she makes. They are modeled after chickens in the coop, and are infused with personality.
I leave Gail and Sandy’s house with two dozen eggs. They are pristine, carefully cleaned and polished by Gail. They are a gift.
This morning I fried one of Rosie Quartz’s eggs over easy, and ate it with a little salt and pepper. And although I don’t know exactly why, I can tell you with certainty it was the best egg I ever ate.
{ 0 comments }
