For the first two years of Petunia’s life she laid eggs all spring and summer, about 400 of them. In her third year, she laid an egg every couple of days. She’s now six and I don’t know how often she’ll produce eggs this year. Maybe none. I got Marge at the same time that I got Petunia. She’s still as noisy as ever, but also not laying.

Buffy is five years old. Two years ago she was quite ill. I nursed her back to health – it took months – she now looks fine, but hasn’t laid an egg since she got sick.

Eleanor is six years old, and she spends her days basking in sunbeams. Her sister, Edwina is more active, but probably not going to lay many eggs this summer.

I’ve been thinking about my old hens, and it’s dawned on me that these are the first elderly chickens I’ve ever had. I don’t cull for productivity, and if a hen gets sick, I try to save her (even though it doesn’t make economic sense.) This morning, I went back through my records. I even made a chart to make sense of what has happened to my hens. I’ve had chickens since 1996. I’ve  lost chickens to a vicious raccoon attack, to hawks and to disease. I was surprised to see that Eleanor and Edwina, Petunia and Marge are the most long-lived hens that I’ve ever had.

I like having old hens.

I like that I can recognize Marge’s buk-buk-clucking. I like seeing Eleanor laze about, her beady eye cocked up at me, clearly saying, I’m here and I’m not moving. So there. I like seeing how Buffy puts up with Lulu’s attempts at friendship. I know these hens. The chickens give me more than eggs. There’s something inexplicably satisfying about standing in the coop, early on a cold morning, tossing corn to the girls. They talk to me. I talk back. They go about their busy chicken day. I go back inside to mine, having gotten to a good start with the community in the coop.

Siouxsie is a Polish Crested. They’re rather silly, fancy birds. You don’t get this breed if you care about high egg production. They’re in the flock for the amusement value.

Nevertheless, the Polish Crested do lay eggs. Siouxsie is about 8 months old. She just laid her first egg. First eggs are often a tad irregular. I’ve seen miniscule eggs without yolks, and jumbo eggs with two yolks. Siouxsie’s first egg was pointy at both ends.

It’s so long that the carton can’t close. I imagine the other eggs were as amused as I was.

All winter Marge has been quiet. Nary a cluck or a chuckle or a cackle. This is a hen who has created a constant racket ever since I got her as a chick. I’ve worried about her. She hatched October 6, 2004, which makes her almost six years old.

Today, though, I happened to be in the coop when Marge strutted through the pop door and announced her presence. Then, she continued to chuck-chuck as she checked out the nesting boxes. I am going to sit in one! she told me. She looked just like a hen that’s going to lay an egg. She was as loud as a hen who has laid an egg. She didn’t lay a thing, but I didn’t care. My Marge is back.

Quite a bit of snow is expected tomorrow, but the goats say that spring is on its way. The wooly bear goat boys are shedding. It seems to me that goats have several types of hair – short, fine and dense; short and coarse; and long and fine. Give a goat a scratch and you’ll have all three on your clothes. I’ve pulled my horse curry comb and brush out of storage.

Meanwhile, I noticed that Caper had a slight limp. I think that he bruised a hoof. Possibly a pebble got stuck between his toes. In any event, it was time to clip his hooves. I have a pair of shears especially designed for this job. They work great for trimming the overgrown nails. Too bad my back is not made for the job. While Steve acted as a human stanchion and fed sweet feed, I bent over and clipped. I think we need to build a stand. For now, I’m going to take a couple of ibuprofen.

I’m a member of Les Dames d’Escoffier, which means I get to hang out with some amazing, talented, accomplished women in the food world. Last night, my local chapter had a Chocolate and Caramel event. We met at Kelly Delaney’s Cakes for Occasions kitchen. Lee Napoli, one of the most inventive chocolatiers in Boston, showed us her truffle-making technique. It’s all about very good chocolate at the right temperature.

Next, Denise Baron, of Burton’s Grill, made caramel. I’ve struggled for years to get caramel right. The step where you boil down the sugar is so tricky! It seizes up. It burns. It boils over. It doesn’t get dark enough. Do you use a spoon? Wooden or metal? Wipe the sides down with water? Denise had a trick. Add a tiny amount of lemon juice to the sugar, and let it boil. There was over a hundred years of food experience in the kitchen last night, and none of us had ever heard that one before. It works! Here is a photo of the perfect, fresh ginger-infused caramel.

Next, Kelly taught us how to make buttercream roses and sent us all home with our own cupcake cake hearts.

When I got home, my husband got a truffle, a cupcake and a spoonful of caramel. After all, he closed up the barns so I could make sweets. This morning it was cupcakes for breakfast!