Size doesn't matter.

Well, that is something I have been told.  

Not sure if I believe it or not.

Check out this whopper which weighed in at exactly 100 grams.

Now, I know you are all wanting to know

whether it lived up to expectations.

Well, you are asking the wrong person.

However, being the voyeur I am, I can tell you

what I overheard and saw.

There were oooohs and aaahs of pleasure from the kitchen

as the comely cook's tiny hands fondled the giant. 

Her face was slightly flushed...radiant,

her mouth partly open as she hefted the big fella...

weighing, considering, contemplating.

There was a momentary flicker of fear in her eyes as she

comprehended its prodigious girth.

then a smug smile of anticipated pleasure.

Her breathing became shallow

and her pert little bosoms heaved...

up and down, up and down.

Taking the monster in both her hands she beat it gently,

against the edge of the frypan.

She inserted her two thumbs into the crack

and prised it apart with her deft,

and experienced fingers.

As the life-giving contents were released,

somewhat prematurely,

the cook threw back her head, 

eyes closed 

and cried out,

"Wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon."

Yep!  It was a double yolker...so twice the fun!

Who needs fifty shades of grey anyway,

when you can have so many shades of eggshell?

Garden bounty

First corn

 This is why I love Grosse Lisse...

big and meaty without many seeds.

Tomato, bocconcini, basil, 

with salt and pepper and a drizzle of good olive oil.

Freshly dug potatoes, eggs from the girls, chives and a bit of mayo.

 

Simply fresh picked beans, crumbled feta and a little more olive oil.

Apart from the cheeses, salt and pepper and olive oil...

ALL HOME GROWN... 

now that is what I call a feast.

Who's your daddy?

Well, in fact, we know who your daddy is:

Rocky Plymouth.

It is your mummy we are confused about.

Could she be this light?

Or could she could be The Cook...

who was so worried about you last night, 

she took you to bed with her

and is now walking about with you, up her shirt. 

(Strange but true)

Jenny has been sitting on nine eggs for the allotted 21 days.

Yesterday, I found this little scrap,

evicted from the nest, cold and limp,

on the floor of the coop.

As you can see from the pictures below, 

at least four others

are about to hatch.

The eggs are a mixture from all the girls, 

so that is why we don't know who the mummy is.

The white eggs are Leghorns' though.

The chicks are peeping, inside the eggs.

When I checked, I could hear them.

It was so loud, I was sure 

I was going to see chicks

when I moved Jenny.

(There are more than 9 eggs, you say. 

The girls like to pop an extra egg

or two under Jenny when she

hops off the nest for a drink.)

If she accepts the new chicks today,

we will slip the first one back under her.

If she rejects them,

it looks like their mummy

will be 

The Cook.

Booook, bok, bok, bok, bok, bok.


Interesting site with photos of embryonic development of chickens.

BABIES!

Look what was delivered today!

Eight Lavender Araucana's...unsexed.

I hope they don't all end up being roosters.

I want to keep adding to the flock to cover losses.

A dog killed one of my original hens a couple of weeks ago...

and the one Isa Brown I have left is old and not laying.

Which leaves me with seven layers at the present.

They are churning out those eggs at an average of five a day.

I saw these little lovelies on a website 

and couldn't resist the idea of green eggs (though some sites say blue).

Stay tuned for the inevitable 'Green Eggs and Ham' post!

But at two and a half weeks old, you may be waiting a while.