Day 176: Gathering eggs from a chicken coop (and more!)

While I am no snooty city girl, I am certainly not a farmer’s daughter either. I did not grow up milking cows at 4 a.m., I did not have to muck out stalls, and I never had to gather the eggs from the chicken coop. I will admit that I am really glad I haven’t done these things. Not only are they hard work and not that enjoyable, but they also provided me with some great blog experiences.

On Day 112 of this blog, I got to experience milking a cow for the first time, and today… I did my time in the coop. (and, NO, I will not be mucking out stalls!)

My friend, Steve, grew up on a small farm and was willing to take me and show me how to gather eggs. I was pretty excited and slightly nervous about this. I was excited because I could finally share an adventure with Laura Ingalls (Little House on the Prairie, anyone?), but I was nervous because I didn’t want to get my hands pecked at.

When we came upon the chicken coop, I was relieved, but surprised, to see that the chickens were outside attacking the grass and not inside waiting to attack my hands. I somehow visualized having to stick my hand under the chicken to get the eggs. I think I got this picture from a movie. And of course I believe everything I see in movies.

Now, I don’t know why, but every time I stuck my hand in one of the coops, I was afraid something was going to happen. I don’t know if I was expecting something to bite me, crawl on me, squawk at me, or for my hand to hit a pile of poop, but I just felt so timid and cautious. This could also have something to do with the fact that Steve and his wife, Courtney, were standing behind me inspecting my job, taking pictures and, I’m sure, wishing that the chicken nearby would start attacking me or hoping that I would drop an egg.

Thankfully, I collected all the eggs without mishap. When I was done, they both asked me, “Are you sure you got all the eggs?” I was suddenly second-guessing my egg-collecting skills and double-checked each coop. (Are all the individual “cubby holes” called coops? Or is just the whole structure that houses them?)

Anyways, after collecting eggs, I got to hold a little baby rooster and feed the chickens. The baby rooster was obviously the highlight of the experience. On our way out of the chicken coop, we had to walk down a wooden ramp that had little ridges on it to step on. Of course, of all the times to trip, I just had to pick the 3 seconds I was walking down the ramp. I tripped. And up went the milk jug… and down went the milk jug… and all I could see were eggs hitting the ground with big splats!

OK, not really. However, while walking down the ramp, I did mention to Courtney and Steve how awful it would be if that did happen. Then I would have really shared an experience with Laura Ingalls.

I was just starting to really feel like a farm girl, when Steve’s dad asked me if I wanted to dig out some potatoes and onions from the garden to take home. Of course I said yes! It was the perfect way to end my “farm” experience.

I think I just might be ready to marry a cowboy. Maybe.

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