60 ~ First sign of spring! Sort of…

A couple of days ago, on Thursday, with the temp here below 0F, some one of my five hens (Alvetta, Flurina, Blackie, Queenie or Princess) laid the first egg of 2022. The girls had stopped dropping orbs a few weeks before the winter solstice (December 21), and have now started again about an equal remove on the other side.

That’s the way it is with birds, at least those that don’t reside at the equator: their triggers to migrate, or to start singing in spring, or build a nest, or lay eggs as in the case of the girls, are tied mainly to day length, rather than weather.  We’ve made the turn, and the next signs in the seasonal queue here at the farmhouse will be my bald eagle neighbors laying their eggs, and the maple trees starting to flow – either could start in February.

Congratulations, and thank you!

I see that this is my 60th post since I began sharing these reflections about two years ago.  In Buddhist culture, where I’ve spent a fair tranche of my life (mainly in Laos), cycles of 12 are highly significant (rather than ten, as here in the West).  Especially important is a fifth cycle of 12 – that is, a 60th anniversary.  For example, both the 60th birthday and the 60th anniversary of the reign of the late King of Thailand were much bigger deals than his 50ths.  And eggs are often used as symbols of abundance in Buddhist ceremonies.  So I’ll take it as a fine sign of synchronicity and serendipity that my 60th post was stimulated by an egg.  Perhaps a good year lies ahead.

I celebrated the first egg with a nice dinner. I retrieved from the garage one of my last buttercup squashes (one of the tastiest varieties of squash), and a trout and some garden broccoli from the chest freezer in the basement.  The trout I’d labeled on the vaccum-sealed Food Saver bag as coming from “unnamed tributary of W. Branch of Pine River”.  Ah, I remember that one well.  It was my first and only ‘trespass trout’.  While driving through Richland County last October, near the end of trout season, I’d spotted a small, promising stream running through a pasture.  Only a raggedy-ass fence minimally bounded the pasture, and no signs were posted against entry, so I decided to give it a try.  I easily slipped over the few drooping strands of barbed wire without snagging my waders, and in short order caught a beautiful 12” brown trout.  There is a deep satisfaction that comes with validation of your take on a prospective trout water.  But also in short order, a Richland County sheriff’s deputy pulled up in his cruiser, and politely escorted me back to my car.  The landowner, in a farmhouse about a mile away, had spotted me and called it in.  But the deputy gave me only a warning, not a ticket, in part because even he wasn’t sure about the nuances of the law on this (for example, the land was not posted, and I kept my feet mostly wet in the stream).  Arlo Guthtrie didn’t get nuthin’ - he had to pay fifty dollars and pick up the garbage.  Me, I got a trout and didn’t have to pay nuthin’.

And what a beautiful , tasty trout it was, with deep pink flesh, prepared in the way I described in my last post, with the beurre blanc to finish it.

The trout’s head, on such a cold night, went to my semi-feral gray cat friends, Smokey and Little One, and the rest of its remains were divided between the compost bucket and the hen bucket  – so the trout can help grow still more broccoli and more eggs.

Speaking of eggs, I was recently at a clothing resale shop in Dodgeville, and it was giving away free bread.  So I grabbed some and broke down and bought a dozen organic eggs (given my hens’ mid-winter sabbatical), to make one of the finest comfort foods on the planet, leek bread pudding. It’s a recipe from Chef Thomas Keller of the renowned, Michelin 3-star California restaurant, The French Laundry.  I par-baked an extra pan of it and put it in the freezer, to finish and bring to whichever lucky household invites me over to watch the Super Bowl.  Here’s the recipe, one of my faves (don’t worry about chasing down brioche; any firm white-ish bread or rolls will work).

I’m pleased to announce I’m now a columnist.  My local newspaper, the Mount Horeb Mail, recently invited me to start adapting some of my posts for a monthly column.  The first one appeared this week.  I’m not paid, but it’s still fun, and I much appreciate MHM’s invitation.

As you may know, dear readers, I am committed to keeping this blog and its readership free from the reaches of surveillance capitalism, by not enmeshing it in any way in Google Ads, Facebook, etc.  If you enjoy reading A Bird in the Bush, and would like to help support me to write it, I’d be most grateful. You can make a contribution through PayPal at williamrobichaud@yahoo.com, or mail a check to 7537 Lakeview Road, Barneveld, WI 53507.  Thank you!    

Now, go Pack go!  They don’t have permission to lay an egg today.