And so it is. Goldie’s brooding again. Or, as I announced to my sister via eMail this morning, “Broody’s golding.” Sadly, she completely understood what I meant.
Twenty more days of no eggs from Hen #3. Twenty more days of moving a moody hen out of the coop to drink and eat and stretch her fluffed-up wings. Twenty more days of worrying about her: Is she too hot? Has she eaten enough? Drank enough? Not to mention–selfish of me, I know–when will I see a 3-egg day again?
Goldie is my brooder. And so it is.