We had to buy eggs the other day – despite having our own hens!

The reason: both girls being broody.

The stockpile of eggs they had produced diligently at a rate of one a day each, prior to their parenting instincts taking over, had been so depleted as to require replenishing from a source other than our own flock.

We keep Pekin Bantams, selected carefully as the best breed for our situation (an average-sized back garden and a small person), but which also have a reputation for being eggs-cellent mothers resulting in a tendency to broodiness.

Last year, all our girls went off the boil for about three weeks – approximately the time it takes to hatch a clutch of eggs – on a couple of occasions. Following the sad loss of our black mottled frizzle Bette in March, we are currently down to two hens (golden partridge and mille fleur, Pekin fans) that together produce at a rate of 14 half-sized eggs per week – perfect output for our small family.

However, the necessary purchasing of eggs at the end of last week obviously prompted a reaction from Audrey (golden partridge), who started laying again at the weekend. We have had two beautiful ova the colour of clotted cream and we will be expecting another this afternoon – her preferred time of day to lay, after which she will fly, squawking, down the ladder of the coop to let us know how clever she is.

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Greta (mille fleur: a thousand flowers in French, que c’est belle?) on the other hand, has still not emerged from the overpowering desire to sit. At one point during this ‘brood’ we discovered her spread flat over a plastic toy pan!

On lifting her out from the back of the coop on Father’s Day morning to wake her from her stupor (broody hens sometimes need to be reminded of the importance of eating and drinking) and give her a little cuddle (she is easily the most placid of our flock) we discovered a bald patch on her underside, self-inflicted, presumably to surround and warm ‘her’ egg.

We will keep an eye on the bald patch. A chicken’s skin is very delicate and a wound is something we would be keen to avoid given the unpleasant, but hard-wired, urge of hens to peck at injuries. We are also on egg-alert, so we can remove any Audrey eggs before Greta attempts to try and hatch them.

At the start of broody season, we placed next to the coop a separate small animal hideaway – to be used either for Audrey to lay or for Greta to brood in, but neither seem keen on anywhere other than the nest box in their Eglu Go Up.

“Why don’t you just let her sit?” we’ve been asked several times.

Our answer, in unison, is: “Clarence,” who we will tell you more about in another blog …