Are You Smarter Than a Chicken?

    Apparently, I am not smarter than a chicken. Given Gypsy Rose's proclivity for finding hiding spots in which to lay, and her continued refusal to stay in the run, I have diligently been searching for caches of eggs. No luck. This morning, my husband was investigating a noise outside my office window and found her new nest, with 7 eggs in it. I have stolen the eggs, and attempted to fool Gypsy Rose by putting a couple of ceramic fake eggs in their place.

     And the peacocks are just laughing at me.

 

In other news, I had to throw out almost FIFTY eggs I discovered under the hens' roost inside the coop. They must have been laying them in dark corners for weeks. So I guess the new chickens are prolific layers after all! But if they think they are going to hatch chicks without a Randy, then we need to have a little talk. Who's stupid now, hey chickens?!

Say, Has Anybody Seen My Sweet Gypsy Rose?

     I have come to love the Barred Rock we now call Gypsy Rose (a.k.a. Stupid Head), and grown used to her daily wanderings. Each morning as the rest of the hens flock out to pasture, she hangs back. From just outside the main door to the yard, she gently flies up on top of the rain tarp and then it's just a quick coast down to freedom. She stays in our yard, although I fear for the last of my lettuce, and has taken to feeding just out my office. She cackles softly to me, cocking her head in greeting when I look out.
    At long last Gypsy Rose and my other new hens are laying eggs with youthful energy, encouraged by the four extra hours of light from the overhead lamp I installed in the coop. I am finally able to share some of my surplus eggs with patient friends and family. But for the last week or so, their laying seemed to have slowed down. I have been busy, and instead of coaxing Gypsy Rose back into the yard two or more times a day, I have let her roam until dark, when she obediently goes inside.
    Today, as I gathered eggs, she was looking to get in to enjoy some of the vegetable scraps I'd tossed out for her sisters. My hands were full, so I returned to refill the feeder and let her in. She'd disappeared. It finally occurred to me that she must be laying eggs somewhere. I had been checking her spot beneath the rose bush, but no eggs had appeared for the last couple of weeks. I walked around the coop, along the pine trees beneath which she could have made a cozy nest; I listened for her gentle clucking.
   Then, I got down on my knees and looked beneath the coop, which is raised about 5 inches off the ground; I only had wire on the opposite side to prevent the hens from escaping. Sure enough there she was, contentedly sitting in a pile of straw which had blown from my garden. How many eggs did she have and how long had they been there? She wouldn't budge with a gentle prodding of the chicken catcher, so I waited for a bit and went back out to tempt her with some cracked corn.

Antique Candler

   I reached in with the 4-foot long chicken catcher and carefully scooted the eggs out, one by one, a full dozen in all. Now the dilemma: were they fresh enough to eat? Eggs will last a month or more in the refrigerator, especially if you've gathered them from your backyard and they don't have to be transported by truck to the store. Some places in Europe, or so I've read, they don't even refrigerate eggs. But of course, I had to be sure.
   Traditional wisdom says if an egg doesn't float, it is fresh. I put the eggs in a bowl of water and they all sank, although some bounced around on the bottom a bit. None of them floated like a beach ball in a  pool. There is some science behind this old wives' tale, however. As an egg ages, the air pocket at the large end gets bigger. You can "candle" your eggs using a bright light and measure the air pocket to see if they meet the USDA standards for AA, A or B grade. In the old days, an actual candle or lamp was used. Today, a bright flashlight will work in a dark room.

   I knew there was a card you could use to gauge the air cell size; my daughter's class measured eggs when the Maryland Ag Lab came to visit her school a couple of years ago. I found a printable one online; you too can get your own air cell gauge to test the freshness of eggs. I carried the eggs and equipment into a darkened hallway and measured them one by one. All were AA or A grade; I cracked the two that were B grade and they looked good as well, the whites were thick and clear. I'll  use them up in an omelet tomorrow.

     The next dilemma is whether to block off Gypsy Rose's hidden nest, or just to be sure to collect the eggs from underneath the coop every couple of days. It is rather inconvenient, but something tells me if I block it off, she will just find another secret spot. Yes, I think she is well-named.

Name My Chicken

What's my name?

   Generally, I don't name my chickens. I don't consider them pets. When one distinguishes itself in some way, I break my rule. First was Amelia, who liked to fly out of the yard until I trimmed her flight feathers. Then there was poor Bumblefoot, cursed in life with a diseased foot and in death by a hungry fox. Randy distinguished himself by his rooster-ness alone.
   My  new layers seem to be a lot of trouble, or more trouble than the last batch. At 25 weeks several are finally laying smallish eggs, but they are flyers and I am constantly herding them back into the pen or trying to catch them. I grabbed one of the Australorps by the feet a few weeks ago and she actually tried to bend over and PECK me!
   The Barred Rocks are particularly flighty and daily one or the other or both of them fly out and sometime back into the yard. I have given up trying to catch them immediately, but just to make sure they are in at night. "Stupid chickens," I fuss at them. "You're going to get eaten and then you'll be sorry."
   I saw the smallest Barred Rock out this morning almost as soon as we opened the coop. I ignored her until I went out at lunch to check their feed. Another chicken was out and I caught her and dropped her back in. The other was nowhere to be found. Usually, she stays around the perimeter of the yard, sticking close to the other hens or perhaps taunting them with her freedom. I didn't see her anywhere.
  I walked around the long outer fence, looking under my grapevines and the 30-foot pines. I looked for feathers. I looked in the sky to see if an eagle was around. I looked accusingly at the Amish neighbors' annoying, yappy dog for blood or feathers. No sign of her. Despite my prior scolding, I was sorry. She was proving to be the best layer so far and she was awfully pretty.
   As I headed inside, hoping she would make her way to the coop as dark approached, I heard some gentle clucking. I walked back to the coop then heard a hen talking behind me. After a few minutes I found her, tucked away cozily in my herb garden beneath some lavender and rose bushes. She had made a nice little nest for herself and there were two eggs.
   For now, I left her outside, safe in her cozy nest. She has endeared herself to me a bit. I think she needs a name. Any suggestions?

Tomato Tutorial

   Gardens do not understand things like back-to-school shopping, impromptu vacations and blogging. So while I was busy with my late summer activities, my corn fell over, my cucumbers grew to the size of watermelons and much of my blackberry crop withered and dropped from the vines. Despite these unfortunate results of my neglect, I managed to pick my filet beans every three days or so, enjoyed my first melons in years and harvested a full bushel of onions for storage.
   Tomato canning is also in full swing. Although I put my plants in terribly late and am just starting to pick more than a few tomatoes a day, my Mom is having a banner year and shared a full bushel of beautiful plum tomatoes with  me over the weekend. She's already put  up more than 50 quarts and given away tomatoes to countless neighbors, so she was happy to share. She's a generous soul and, like me, hates to see anything go to waste rotting on the vine.
   I have been canning on my own for some 15 years, but growing up it was just part of summer. For as long as I can remember, we spent August days at the kitchen table with hot jars and crab knives coring and peeling tomatoes, the steamy smell of scalded tomatoes hanging heavy. I remember the tomato juice running down my elbows as I sat with a cookie sheet of tomatoes in front of me, the acidic juice stinging my bug bites and the inevitable sliced thumb. I was only too happy to take over the job of shoving the tomatoes into the quart jars so that all of the air bubbles were removed. My small hands could fit all the way down inside.
   Every year that passes, I get more and more questions about canning and am happy to offer my encouragement and advice. A couple of years ago, a college friend and her small daughter came over to watch and help me can tomatoes. This summer, I advised another friend on canning equipment and yesterday, I gave her some pint jars on the promise of receiving some quarts in return. Our family has outgrown pints.
   This is my secret for canning tomatoes: Keep it simple. For me, that means jarring up whole tomatoes only. I've experimented with salsa, sauce, and juice over the years and all of the recipes were too much work and the results not what I wanted. The basic requirement of canning is that you sterilize everything thoroughly and maintain the proper acidity of the contents before sealing. FOLLOW THE RECIPE. The recipes are precise, and you really cannot and should not fool around with them because you might just wind up making your entire family sick. Personally, I think a bad jar of home canned goods is pretty obvious, so don't let that scare you  off.
   I process quarts and quarts of whole tomatoes which I use all year long as the base for recipes. Home canned tomatoes taste almost as good as fresh to me, and far better than any I have ever gotten in the store--although I cannot remember the last time I bought tomatoes. Besides, they look so PRETTY lined up above my kitchen cabinets. So here is my tomato tutorial.
*Buy yourself a Ball Blue Book. It is the canning bible and it costs about five bucks. It gives you instructions and amounts on just about anything you might want to preserve.
*Buy inexpensive equipment to start. Sometimes I dream about the beautiful heavy-duty professional quality canner that does a dozen jars at a time, but that $20 lightweight aluminum canner I bought 15 years ago just won't die so I'm still using it. My newbie canning friend just bought a Ball Home Canning Small Batch kit that costs about $10 and allows you to process 3 jars in your own large stockpot. You can get a Ball Home Canning Basics kit that includes a 6-jar pot and rack for $39. The second kit includes the Blue Book.
*Buy local tomatoes or better yet, grow your own. Tomatoes are one of the easiest vegetables to grow. Just use plenty of organic matter in your soil, such as compost or mushroom soil. This goes for growing them in pots as well. Honestly, if you know anyone with a garden--even if they can--they might be looking to get id of some tomatoes come September. By that time, gardeners are just TIRED.

*Wash your tomatoes well. Dirt on the outside becomes a contaminant on the inside. I use a big galvanized tub outside and put a quarter bushel or so in at a time.
*Scald the tomatoes in boiling water. This helps the skins to basically slip off with very little knife work. Here's a family secret. Use an old, clean pillow case to hold the tomatoes. Dip the whole "bag" in the pot of boiling water--making sure you've left enough room so the pot doesn't overflow--and leave it in for several minutes. The timing depends on how hot your water is, how many tomatoes you've put in. Watch for steam and peek inside the pillow case. If the tomato skins are starting to crack, they are ready. Hold the bag up and drain it a bit--again, be careful of the steam and hot water-- and then immediately put them into a drainer or a sink or pot full of cold water. Rinse them well with cool water to prevent them from cooking. I have wimpy fingers and cannot peel hot tomatoes so this is doubly important for me.
*Peel into a pot. When you have a family of four all peeling and stuffing jars, you can keep an assembly line of jars moving pretty efficiently. When you are by yourself or are new to canning, it helps to have a place to put your nice, clean peeled tomatoes. The other reason is that you might choose to hot pack your tomatoes rather than cold pack.
*Hot pack your tomatoes. This is your best defense against bacteria. Collect your tomatoes into your largest stock pot (or your second largest if the first is being used to scald or process the jars). Bring them to a boil, gently stirring them so they don't fall apart. Slicing or beefsteak tomatoes may break down a bit. But then you have a jar of crushed tomatoes. Most of the time you end up using them crushed anyway. After they boil for a couple of minutes, turn OFF the heat and they are ready to ladle into your jars.
*Or, cold pack your tomatoes. You can pack your tomatoes right into the jar. Nice, firm plum or Italian tomatoes work great this way.

*Put the tomatoes in jars. Before adding tomatoes, you  will want to add two things: citric acid/lemon juice and salt. The citric acid helps prevent spoiling, especially since the acidity of tomatoes varies considerably. The salt, I believe, is for flavor. I add 2 tablespoons lemon juice and 1 teaspoon of salt per quart jar; pints need 1 tablespoon lemon juice and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Citric acid is not readily available to me in local stores. Use a jar funnel to prevent spilling tomato juice all over the outside while filling. Put in the whole tomatoes and smash them down with your fingers or a WOODEN spoon handle. Ladle in hot tomatoes with a slotted spoon. When the jar is close to being full, add small tomatoes or halves until it is close to the top. Ladle in some juice; I try to keep my quarts heavy on tomatoes with as little juice as possible. Take a WOODEN spoon handle and poke it around the side of the jar to make sure there are NO air pockets. Fill with juice or tomatoes until it is within 1/2 inch of the top. Precise headspace is important! Too much and it will boil over. Too little and it may not seal.
*Jarring advice. Use canning jars. Resist the urge to use leftover spaghetti sauce or mayonnaise jars (they used to be glass anyway). If you've ever had a jar break in the pot, you'll understand why. Canning jars are much thicker and designed to withstand the cooking temperatures. On the other hand, old canning jars are great and I think better than some made today. I have canning jars that are as many as 70 years old. Each time I reuse them, I wonder about all that has been stored in them and the women who used them. New canning jars are sold at Wal-Mart and most grocery stores. I keep my eyes open at yard sales, but I see jars less often these days. Advertise to your older neighbors that you are canning. They might have some in storage.
*Add lids and rims. Clean the rim of the jar with a cloth. Very important. If it is juicy or sticky, it might prevent a seal. Place the lid down and then screw the rim down as tightly as you can. New canning jars usually come with flat lids with a rubber gasket built in along with metal rims. If you get old or hand-me-down jars, you can buy rims and lids at the same places as you buy jars. Note: You will need far more lids than rims! Sterilize your lids and rims by putting them in a pot of water and bringing it to a boil. Boil for a minute and then hold in the hot water. I used to stack the lids in the rims and place each set upside down in the water, hoping they would stay together. Now, I have the handy little tool in the picture above that holds a dozen lids upright. You see, hot lids like to stick together and are difficult to separate without scalding yourself. I remove the lids and rims from the water with rubber-tipped tongs.
*Process jars. I use a boiling water bath canner. I am intimidated by a pressure canner, and it is unnecessary for tomatoes anyway. Use a jar lifter to put the jars one by one into the boiling water. You will want to have the water already at a simmer, as it will take a few minutes to bring it back to a boil. Ideally, your jars will already be hot from sterilization and/or hot pack. As you can imagine, if they are plunged cold into boiling water, there may be breakage. Sometimes, I will put the jar rack over the sides of the pot, place just the bottoms of the jars into the water, and give them a minute or so to heat up before lowering them very carefully into the water.  Once again, make sure you have plenty of room for the full jars in the pot. You may need to scoop out some water. The jars should be covered with at least 1 inch of water. For quarts in my smallish canner, that means the water goes right up to the tippy top. Once the water comes to a boil, you will boil the jars for 45 minutes for quarts, 40 minutes for pints. It is a long time. It gets very hot. My mother used to have all of her filled jars ready, start a batch and go to sleep on the couch until the timer went off. Then she'd do it all over again for half the night. That's dedication.

*Remove jars and cool. When the time is up, remove the jars carefully with the jar lifter onto the counter or ideally a cookie sheet. Often, the jars will boil over with tomato juice, despite your best efforts to screw the rims down tight. Usually that does not prevent a seal, but  I do have to reprocess jars from time to time. As the jars cool down, you will hear a satisfying pop as the lids are sucked down tightly against the top of the jar.
*Check seals and store. The next day, when the jars are thoroughly cool, remove the rims and check the seals. Pull up on the lid with a fingernail. Don't be shy. If the seal is good, it will hold. If it is not, you will want to reprocess or use immediately anyway.  You don't want a science fair project growing on your shelf. Wipe the jars off with a cloth, paying special attention to the screw-top area. Anything that grows there can compromise your seal. Also, don't store with the rims on because not only can they rust in place, but they can harbor bacteria that will spoil your contents.

OPTIONAL EQUIPMENT: You may want to know that a 3 to 5-gallon pot of water will eventually destroy the coil on your electric stove. The pots are so heavy that they crack the ceramic where the coil plugs into the stove. If you have gas with cast iron grates, you are in good shape. Several years ago, I bought an outdoor propane burner such as used to fry turkeys in oil. I moved the entire canning operation outside under a tree where it is cooler and I have ready access to plenty of water from the garden hose.

Hmmm....all these steps don't make it seem simple, do they? But really, I'm just sharing all of the little hints that make the process more fool-proof. Soon, I'll share some of the great recipes I create using my home canned tomatoes.