A First Egg

My Henryetta is a late bloomer.  She's the last of my four girls to lay.  In fact, it took her almost 6 months to the day to get good and ready.  For a chicken, that's a bit on the slow side, although we prefer the term delayed.  I let them out yesterday for a little backyard free ranging, and I knew that an egg was brewing because every so often Henryetta would squat, pause, and then, as the mood would pass, she'd be up again and on the prowl for assorted bugs and seeds.  Squat.  Pause.  Forage.  Repeat.  The sun set on her big debut, however, and so it wasn't until this morning that we found a tiny, cold egg in the corner of the coop, and we knew exactly from whom it had come.

First eggs are always small, sometimes even half the size of a regular-sized egg, and often irregular in some way.  We've had misshapen eggs, an egg without a yolk, a double yolker, an egg with a discolored band around it, and other assorted surprises.  However, the eggs will get bigger and more uniform over the course of the next couple of weeks and months until they are all sufficiently large and perfect.  And by perfect, I mean, of course, the way all things homegrown are unique and sublime.  For comparison purposes, here is Henryetta's first egg next to one from another of our chickens who has a bit more practice.

Despite the size difference, I'd say they're both pretty grand.  My very own backyard eggs from my very own backyard chickens.  Who would have ever thought?