Scrambled eggs or pancakes? Well, that all depends on who laid eggs this morning. There is something fun about not knowing what we are going to eat for breakfast til we see how many eggs we collect. Sure we could just buy a dozen at the store. But where is the fun in that? Besides, store bought eggs taste like chemicals to me now after eating fresh eggs.
We feed them. They feed us. Having chickens is by far my favorite part of farm living. Betsy comes running when you call her. She waits at the front door now. I guess she has figured out where the scraps are coming from. They all have different personalities. But Betsy Ross is my favorite.