It’s snowing again today, a Nor’easter with 10″-12″ accumulation predicted. Looks like the weather is trying to live up to the forecast, too. The snowfall has been steady all day. A perfect day to process all the pullet eggs I’ve been collecting to make blown eggs. The work is time consuming so it’s best done when there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do but watch snow fall.
With a healthy flock of young Ameraucana hens just starting to lay, I’m getting a lot of small but very nicely colored eggs. Ameraucana chickens carry a gene that turns their egg shells blue. The first eggs a hen lays are always the deepest colored. My girls lay an assortment of shades, mostly medium pastel turquoises, ranging from green to nearly blue. I have been breeding these birds for many generations to produce the best, darkest blue color I can. We’re getting there.
It is a shame to waste the lovely shells, so I save the very best colored eggs that have no laying irregularities like ridges or odd shape. When I get a bunch, I drill a tiny hole in one end and carefully remove the contents of the egg. The process I use is one I developed myself through much trial and error. I prefer not to write about it here, a trade secret. Suffice to say that it takes a long time to clear out the innards and put the eggs through several rinses to get the insides perfectly clean. Then I dry the eggs and offer them for sale in my online stores. The blown eggs sell very quickly and I usually earn about $1 per egg for my efforts. They are most popular around Easter. Some people use them to create pysanky, lovely painted decorative eggs.
Nothing from the eggs goes to waste. I save all the innards and have a big bowl of pre-mixed eggs ready to go into baking or to make a batch of scrambled eggs. This latest set of blown eggs started as 18 but one shell burst under the pressure of having the insides blown out. Sometimes an egg will have a weak place that is not visible but shows up when cleaned. Here is a shot of some of the ladies on a nice spring day, when all the snow is forgotten.