I am usually woken up by the sun streaming through my window at around 6.30, but I persuade my very sleepy body that it needs to sleep for a little longer. I eventually wake closer to 8. I muddle around the kitchen making breakfast and coffee to get me up and going. After the ritual view appreciation with my fellow farm girls we head out to collect the chicken eggs.
Releasing the chickens from their shed about 10am, we allow them to escape. They peck the ground and go about their daily chicken chores as we head inside to the dusty shed they call home. It’s covered in chicken poop. The chickens are always very curious about us, even though they see us every day. They inspect the egg baskets with avid curiosity, no chicken has yet to clamber inside and try to eat the eggs, but I wouldn’t put it past them. I keep one eye on the basket and one eye on collecting. Most of the eggs are on a carousel, so I roll it until I have collected all of the eggs. Some are still warm, either meaning they are very fresh or a chicken decided to sit on them for a while. Everyday there are some chicken who refuse to use the nice laying location we have provided for them and choose instead to lay their eggs in the dirt, these are my least favourite eggs. Chickens bury their eggs sometimes and if the eggs are on the floor they are always covered in some poop. Occasionally I get eggs which have already cracked. When this happens I throw the eggs for the chickens to eat. It’s a feeding frenzy.
Whenever I finish collecting the eggs we then spent the next 30minutes to an hour cleaning them, by hand. It’s a therapeutic endeavour and not one I mind at all.
My work is done when I have cleaned all of the collection. The rest of the day is mine for adventures. Sometimes I go to Byron and surf. Other times, I stay at the farm and do some life admin.
Everyday something happens on the farm. Today, one the cars broke down so I assisted in towing back to the farm. Previously the goats got their heads stuck in the fence and had to be freed. The routine is always similar, but never exactly the same. Later I think we have to fix one of the sheds so the chickens stop hanging out with the machinery. Not a place they should be laying eggs.
The second collection of the day is done around 4, sometimes I do this one too. But the work load is split between 3 at the moment so I often get the afternoon off. This means my adventures have no restrains other than the grumbling of my belly.
Dinner time varies hugely. Most often the other wwoofers and I try to eat together, it’s a little bit like a family. Eating, I feel, I a communal activity. Sometimes we have wine and we sit and chat for hours, until the yawns become too big and our beds are calling. And it all begins again.