Jake was sent by the army this week to upstate New York to find out if he is deploying to Afghanistan.

His week long absence is giving me a taste of what life will be like on my own — caring for the two flocks, making sure the fire in the wood stove doesn’t go out (it’s 15 degrees outside!) and ensuring Cowboy gets his daily walks. And caring for five month old June while trying to finish a book.

Not to bore you with the details of my day, but the morning routine goes something like this: Rise at 6 a.m. with June for a feed. Lay her down in my bed and hope she goes back to sleep while I throw on seventeen layers of clothing and run downstairs to build back up the fire that is now a scattering of faintly glowing embers. Once hte fire is sufficiently roaring, I fill a five gallon water bucket half full with water and trudge down to the coop to check on the 30 new chicks; fill their trough with water and give them a fresh supply of food. If the water trough is dirty, I bring it back to the house for a cleaning since the outdoor hydrants are frozen solid during this time of year.  Then I hoof it over to the Hen Hut in another section of the yard, lugging the water bucket, and do the same thing for the adult layers. I check their laying boxes for eggs but find mostly broken shells and frozen yolks and curse them for being so savage and ungrateful, then I run back to the house with their soiled laying mats, give them a quick scrub in the laundry room and  cross my fingers that the authorities aren’t going to come and pick me up for neglecting my parental duties.

This morning, I got lucky. She had drifted back to sleep. So I spent a few moments communing with my virtual friends in computer land, sipped a cup of Maxwell House, fed Cowboy scraps of meat from last night’s dinner and prayed once more my husband doesn’t get shipped halfway round the world.

This is nothing compared to what most *real* farmers go through — you know those people who have horses and cattle and sheep and pigs in addition to chickens? —  but I feel like I’ve already put in a half day of work by seven in the morning.

What will tomorrow bring?

UPDATE: I’ll tell you what tomorrow brings. This morning I found a dead chick in the coop! Her head had been bitten clean off.  All of the other birds were accounted for. What animal would do such a thing and not eat the rest of the carcass? This predator killed purely for sport.  There is no husband around to investigate this gristly matter.

UPDATE: I’m hearing this was most likely the work of a weasel. Odds are the murderous hunter will be back tonight.  This means war.

Houston, we have a problem.

California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger signed landmark legislation yesterday requiring “that all whole eggs sold in California as of January 1, 2015 come from hens able to stand up, fully extend their limbs, lie down and spread their wings without touching each other or the sides of their enclosure, thus requiring cage-free conditions for the birds.”

It seems insane that the treatment of animals would be anything otherwise, but I guess that’s what happens when consumers get used to paying $9 for 5 dozen eggs — which works out to something like 15 cents an egg — at a store like Sam’s Club or Costco.  You know those hens aren’t living the high life, that is for sure.

I can hardly believe it, but I’m at capacity with my egg selling business. I’ve already had four potential customers ask me to start selling them eggs this week, and I (unfortunately) had to turn them down because I don’t have any eggs left to sell. With 12 to 14 dozen going out the door each week, I’m booked! Solid! I barely have enough for Jake and myself.

The egg business: It’s lucrative. Low labor output (for me, that is….can’t speak for the hens). Too bad it’s not also a get-rich-quick venture.

I realize this is going to get really repetitive really fast but I picked up the third and fourth eggs yesterday.

It’s a freaking ovafest over here.

UPDATE: The 5th, 6th and 7th eggs have been retrieved.