Today I am putting Agatha in the car and driving 38 miles to visit about 150 pre-K and kindergarten children. I’m looking forward to it. Agatha doesn’t know to look forward to anything that will happen more than ten seconds beyond the immediate moment,

but I do know that when she is at the school and sees little girls in sparkly shirts, and is pet by little gentle boys in awe, she will be a content hen.

This is the first time that I have not brought one of my actresses who play Tillie with me. Snowball was the first, and greatest, of the Bantam White Leghorns. Then came Betsy, Eggers and Coco. Betsy is the only one left. I’ve decided to retire her because during the last school visit she just wasn’t enjoying herself. It might have been because she was starting to molt, which will make anyone, literally, prickly.

But, I could tell it was more than that. How can I tell if a chicken is “happy?” What is happy for a chicken anyway? Who knows? A chicken’s mind is not a human’s mind. There are biological similarities. There are differences. I can’t read her thoughts, but I can read her body language. In her prime, on school visits, Betsy acted like a diva, with a “stare at my beauty” stance. Betsy’s tail would be upright, her head high. She was active, eating, and casting beady stares at everything new. When I took her out of her crate and perched her on my arm, she’d stay put, expecting the handful of grain she knew was coming. She let each child stroke her, looking carefully at each one, and talking in a low chortling voice. Back in the crate she’d eat some more, then settle down as if she was calmly sitting on a nest. But, this past autumn, I took her to a school and her tail was down. She didn’t eagerly look at the children. She didn’t want to perch on my arm. If she had suddenly started speaking in English Betsy couldn’t have been clearer. It was time to retire. Agatha was ready in the wings – actually in her travel crate – I’d brought her as a backup. As child after child came up to pet her, Agatha sat contentedly in my lap, chortling greetings to each. A new star was born.

So, Agatha will be in the car today, not Betsy. We’re going to have fun.

It’s been a strangely warm and dry winter. At this time last year we had a foot and half of snow on the ground. This morning I spied green daffodil shoots coming up in the front woodland.

Despite this unseemly weather luring me into complacency (and confusing my flowers), it is January and time to take stock of the previous year and look ahead to the upcoming one. My IT guy and a talented web designer are revamping my HenCam site. In about a month there will be a new look and more content. I’ll have an organized area for chicken keeping FAQs, and a few surprises for you! What do you want to read and see here?

More recipes? By the way, I’m the Cookstr Chef of the Day. They’ve got a few recipes from my cookbook, 1,ooo Lowfat Recipes up.

Do you want more stories about the goings on here? Animal tales?

What chicken keeping information would you like to see?

What about videos? I think I need to make one of how to dose a chicken with olive oil. What else?

Do let me know your ideas. We have a fun year ahead of us.

Lily is not an easy dog to live with. I adopted her when she was somewhere around 7 months old. My best guess is that she’s a giant Rat Terrier with a little Border Collie mixed in.

She is hyper-vigilant, alarmist and sure that everyone she knows is capable of conniving plots. Not exactly a relaxing animal to have around. But, those traits also make her a good farm dog. (Isn’t it true that often our most difficult aspects are also our strengths?) She chases hawks out of the sky, keeps deer out of the yard, and kills mice. I’ve always liked having smart animals and Lily is a genius dog. She is fun to train. But, after a few years of having her, I knew that she could use a dog friend. I couldn’t get another dog with emotional baggage, so I needed a pup. Also, I prefered a smaller dog so that both could fit into my car.

On Petfinder I came across what looked like a corgi-mix who had just given birth to three pups.

The puppies and mama were in a loving foster home. I picked that cute one in the middle.

Scooter turned into a dog that was nothing like I expected, but has exceeded all expectations.

I thought that he’d grow up to be about 20 pounds. He tops out at 10 1/2 – dad must have been a Chihuahua. I thought that he was a terrier/herding mix and would have that feisty personality. Scooter is a toy dog, through and through. Scooter is a lap dog, but he also has that Chihuahua peskiness.  He pesters Lily to stop being so vigilant and to play with him. He bites her feet, he gets her to do crazy zoomies. That’s his job. It’s a big one and exhausting. Scooter needs a lot of cozy sleeptime.

He is a dog of little brain but loving heart.

Happy Fifth Birthday, Scooter!

This pumpkin has cheered up the front door since mid-October.

But it’s now a frozen mass of orange, and the first day above freezing it will turn into a rotten mess. So, it’s time to feed it to the girls!

First I had to get it into a wheelbarrow. I think it weighs about fifty pounds, but it felt like more than that, and is was too big to get my arms around. I’m glad no one videoed me maneuvering it into the wheelbarrow. Next, I took my Japanese pruning saw to it. Philomena spied it from across the lawn and came running to check things out.

I put half into the Gem’s yard. I wasn’t surprised that the Speckled Sussex were the first over. They’re curious birds and not at all shy about new things.

The old girls have seen many pumpkins, but none this big! They scarf down the seeds first.

But the animal who likes pumpkin the most is Candy. You’ll see her, over the next few days, gnawing on the rind.

The egg yolks, in the next week, will be as bright orange as the pumpkin. There will be some cheerful-looking breakfasts here.

If you’ve had hens for more than, oh, say two days, you start to accumulate chicken tschotskes (a Yiddish word for useless decorative stuff.) I admit it, I have hen-themed items, but try limit the display so you don’t think OMG, Chickens! when you first walk through the door.

I do have a collection of egg cups. An egg cup is a little stand used to serve a soft-boiled egg. The nice thing about egg cups is they can be tucked into a cabinet.

Here in America, egg cups have fallen out of favor. When was the last time you saw a soft-boiled egg on a restaurant menu or even made one for breakfast for yourself? It’s something to start eating again. Quite healthy. No butter, no fattening omelet fillings. Just the egg and maybe dry toast “soldiers” (toast cut into sticks for dipping into the egg.)

If you start eating soft-boiled eggs, you have an excuse to buy these:

or this charmer:

Look at these shapes and colors:

Still not convinced that you want to eat soft-boiled eggs just to collect egg cups? In the 1930s, double egg cups became popular. Hard-cooked eggs were chopped, seasoned with salt and pepper and served in these larger dishes. The trend lasted into the 50s when these Atomic Era cups were made.

If you don’t want to go searching on eBay and at flea markets for the vintage ones, you can always buy a simple white cup. But then you might want to get an egg cozy to keep your breakfast warm while the toast cooks.

(Thank you to my friend Wendy for sending me this little egg “hat.”)