I like to think that I am a pretty good gardener. My veg garden is weed free. My flowers bloom. But when I went to the farmers’ market a half-mile up the street from me (a neighborly, rather informal gathering of mostly local backyard growers with excess from their gardens), I realized that my ping-pong ball sized cabbages paled in comparison to what is grown nearby (no excuses for me now about weather!). My lettuce is bolted and done; yet I was able to buy a perfect head for $1. I took solace in the fact that my carrots are looking quite good this year (I finally convinced myself to thin them — which really is important.) Still, I have enough in my garden to make a perfect summer meal.

Last night, I gathered what I had: a handful of purple beans, a dozen big Swiss chard leaves, a scallion, 2 carrots, 3 small tomatoes and one green pepper. I sauteed these veggies with a clove of garlic from a neighbor’s patch (if you haven’t had fresh garlic, you’re in for a pungent surprise!). Once wilted, I tossed this mixture in with browned spicy chicken sausage and some pasta. A bit of Parmesan cheese, and dinner was done. Perfect.

Where are the eggs, you ask? I had them for lunch in a potato salad (potatoes bought at the same farmers’ market). Oh, and there was a bit of leftover Chocolate Bread Pudding for dessert. (See my Farmstead Egg Cookbook, page 115. Easy. Luscious. Eggy.)

I take Snowball into the veg garden while I weed. She doesn’t tear up the garden the way the big hens do. I bring her in to eat bugs. I’ve got a cucumber beetle infestation that I’m hoping she’ll help with. But chasing insects is hard work and Snowball has learned that all she has to do is to wait for me to hand feed her the juiciest morsels. Snowball has recently become impatient with the speed of my bug-catching and she tells me about it in with loud beep-beeps. She sounds just like Road Runner! In fact, I think that Snowball is just as fast. You should see how quickly she comes running when I call her name. She’s a little white beep-beeping blur.

I get emails that begin like this:  “My husband thinks I’m crazy. I sit and watch the chickens.” And, “I work in a cubicle and the chickens are a little bit of pleasure in my day. They keep me calm.”

Isn’t it ironic how birds that are so busy and fussy, constantly moving, and squabbling amongst themselves, can be so calming? But it’s true. Having a bad day? Watch the chickens for awhile. Need to decompress after work? Sit with the hens. Need a good laugh? Visit with the girls.

I’m a dog person and I ride horses. I’ve been around animals all of my life. And I can tell you that hens provide a different sort of companionship than these other wonderful creatures. They are silly and comforting. What a delightful combination. Even if you have a small yard, you too can have these mental health boosters in your life. Forget the “chicken in every pot.” I say, let’s have three chickens in every yard!

Can’t get enough of chicken things? I’ve got a new listing on my Chicken Keeping Resources page. Chicken Artists. Fine art that features chickens. Would love to list more. Email me!

There are leeches in my water garden. Bear with me, this will be about the hens. My water feature has been pristinely clear, without chemicals, since we built it three years ago. It has an effective filtration system that includes a planted area that mimics a natural bog. It also has a 2-foot deep area with fish, which my dog sometimes cools off in, as do I. My sons spend hours circling the pond, looking at tadpoles, hunting frogs and marveling at dragonfly nymphs. But this is not a garden blog, so I’ll stop here. Suffice it to say that when you are given water plants as gifts you should quarantine them first. Or else, like us, when you put your feet in the water, they will soon be covered with disgusting, sucking leeches.

But, once again, what is stomach-churning to me, is pleasing to the hens. The plastic filter (that looks like a large, thick sponge) housed in the pump chamber was filled with tiny, writhing, larvae. I knew what to do with the filter. I put in on the ground in their chicken yard. “I’ve got bugs, girls!” The hens came running and then stopped suddenly and peered with suspicion at this algae-covered mat. That is, everyone but Snowball, who spied the wriggling critters and recognized good food when she saw it. Snowball hopped right up and started pecking. Tweedledum joined her. Then the others stretched their necks and tasted. My girls clucked and chuckled with satisfaction. If I could have clucked, I would have. Once again, they were gleefully taking care of a yucky garden pest. (See June 2 blog.)

Tomorrow Tweedledum and Snowball will be given a romp in the pumpkin patch. I don’t like the way the pumpkin leaves have holes in them. I’m sure the girls with enthusiastically take care of the problem.

Three of my hens are broody – Blackie, Snowball and Marge. A broody hen sits in a nesting box, and if there are eggs there, she’ll roll them under her to keep them warm. I don’t know how Snowball stays balanced. At times she is perched on four large eggs that weigh almost as much as her.

A broody hen stops laying for weeks, and sometimes months, and so a backyard hen keeper has to decide if he or she wants to go to the bother of breaking the broody cycle. It is possible, but not easy.

Being broody is an innate, genetically driven response to a hen’s maturity, the time of year and the environment. A broody hen settles down, ruffles her feathers and elevates her body temperature. In some cases, if you can lower that temperature, she forgets about sitting. I’ve read about putting ice cubes under the hen — which seems rather messy and somehow like a sly practical joke. You can replace the bottom of the nesting box with a screen, so that the heat dissipates. You can lock the hen out of the hen house so that she has nowhere to be broody.

Or, you can leave the hen be and have fewer eggs. That’s been my choice because only two of my good layers are broody, so I still get seven eggs a day which is more than plenty. But if I had only three or four hens, I would try to break the broodiness.

If you’ve had any success getting your broody hens off of the nest and laying again, email me! Also, what’s the longest your hens have been broody? Tweedledum was broody for a month this spring, and now she has no interest in sitting. But I think that Snowball is going to stay put all summer.