On July 1st we packed the station wagon and drove north to the little cabin in Maine. Sparky lounges in the back seat, and the hens are along too. I think some of our friends imagine some sort of "Beverly Hillbillies" scene with an open jalopy and the chickens in a wooden crate on top. What's really going on is that we put the three hens in an old cat carrier lined with newspaper and cedar chips, fitted with hanging stainless bowls of water and pellets. They are in the far back of the wagon, and they don't seem to mind the ride. Every time we open the hatch, I tell them what good laying hens they'll be, but there hasn't been an egg yet.
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