http://www.fresh-eggs-daily.com/
http://www.backyardpoultrymag.com/

Fresh Eggs Daily also has a nice Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/FreshEggsDaily/posts/635881513120428

We are proud to call Stefanie our neighbor. We support her raising of chickens as we supported the way she worked to keep cigarette butts off the beach and her endeavors to enrich the quality of education at Kiptopeke Elementary when her children were enrolled there. We believe in her pattern of socially responsible consumption. It is peace work each time any of us prepares a meal with fresh, locally grown produce or fresh eggs from one’s own chickens. Thank you Stefanie for leading the way!

I grew up in Colonial Place in Norfolk, VA. (Cape Charles attracted me initially because its homes reminded me so much of Colonial Place.) One Easter, the Easter Bunny left my two sisters and me three little chicks. Two grew up to be chickens; one grew up to be a rooster. My sisters and I were in charge of feeding and caring for them, which we did with minimal reminding. And we played with them everyday after school.

Everything was fine, until Monster Mac (the rooster) began to crow in the mornings. A number of strategies were implemented to contain his natural enthusiasm for daybreak. But, after too many complaints from too many neighbors, it was decided that we should donate Monster Mac to City Park. But how could we separate him from his sisters, the only family he had? The park agreed, and so their barnyard welcomed Monster Mac and his sisters. For a while we visited them regularly, but then we gave that up too.

Years later, a former neighborhood friend, who had gotten a chick that Easter too, revealed that when her chick became a chicken, it had disappeared one day. Reportedly it had been donated to City Park too. Later she learned that actually, they had eaten it for dinner one night.

Well, at least we hadn’t eaten Monster Mac.

I did not appreciate hens as pets until Stefanie acquired her six. I remember my grandmother running after a chicken in her yard, grabbing it and decapitating it on the chopping block. (It was delicious as Sunday mid-day dinner !) As a five year old, I was horrified, but as an adult I understand that was what you had to do to keep your family fed as the Great Depression gave way to WWII. Nowadays I appreciate Stef’s hens for a different reason. As company, as beloved pets, as good natural instruction for my grandsons. I can always get ready-to-cook chickens for the stew-pot at the grocery if I wish.