Helga & Dora

Helga and Dora are our hens. Don't think I've mentioned them before. Some time in November my mother went to by chicken in the market and was convinced to by live ones. We thought: since they've been caged for so long, let's let them run free before they are killed for grilled chicken or chicken light soup. Naturally we didn't take into account our conscience.

After a few days my mum named them. I warned her that "now you'll never be able to kill them" and of course I was right. Once in a while I joke that we should feed them with fresh coriander and basil to marinate them from the inside, but of course Helga and Dora's fate has already been sealed. They'll most likely live til they die a natural death. Either way, it has worked out well for us too. Every morning they give us eggs. We no longer need to worry about whether the eggs we consume are ecological or from free range hens, as they are produced in our very own garden by very stubborn, pampered free running hens. Now, if only one of you could explain how these hens can keep on producing eggs when there is no rooster (it just doesn't feel right using the word "cock" anymore!) in sight. I must have missed that in biology class.