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An Ex-Expatriate

Tag Archives: chickens

Eddy’s Body Shop

01 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by farfalle1 in Automobiles, People

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Body shop, chickens, Eddy, Toyota MR2

About a month ago someone ‘tapped’ the back of Speedy’s beloved 1991 MR2 as he was leaving the grocery store. Then, adding insult to injury, someone in a parking lot backed into the other side of the back end of the car. At first the insurance company deemed it ‘totaled,’ but upon reflection they saw their folly, and gave him a settlement to have it repaired. This led him to Eddy’s Auto Body, which turned out to be like a trip South of the Border.

Thank goodness for GPS, or we might never have found Eddy, who is tucked away at the end of this unimpressive dirt road, rendered one-lane by all the parked cars:

Road to Eddy's Body Shop

The best way to find the road is to look for the Frutilanda sign. There was a row of men sitting on the ledge for end-of-the-day refreshment when we arrived,  but most of them proved camera-shy. (One said, “My wife doesn’t know I’m here.”)(!)  Only this brave soul stayed to be photographed. I love the wheels on top of the sign. By the way, Eddy’s business is not called Colazo Automotive.

Colazo sign

There are a handful of other auto repair and body shops in the same location. I imagine you could dump a complete wreck at the start of the road and end up with a fully restored, gleaming vehicle at the end. Here are some of the other cars that were waiting for Eddy’s attention. They don’t look like much now, but I can guarantee that when he’s done with them they will look brand new.

Cars awaiting attention

Part of the charm of Eddy’s is that it is not like a dealer’s body-shop. There is no counter with a row of associates in identical shirts waiting to check off innumerable boxes on forms. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate the service we get from our dealers – but they don’t have the chicken charm that Eddy’s has:

Louis, Eddy, cock

This is one fine-looking rooster!

the cock

As well there was an elegant lady on the premises:

Henof some sort
Isn’t she lovely? That neck! She’s a regular Audrey Hepburn!

It took a while for Eddy to get to Speedy’s car, and once he did, it took a while for him to finish it, in part because Speedy opted for a complete paint job in addition to the body repairs. But the result was worth the wait. The color is exactly what Speedy wanted and it is smooth and shiny and just downright gorgeous.

Here are Speedy and Eddy and me in ghostly shadow form.  Those things that look like they might be scratches on the right are reflections in the mirror-like finish of the paint job:

Eddy, Louis and the MR2

How did we find Eddy in the first place? Well you might ask, because he was not easy to find. Speedy asked one of the auto supply stores to recommend a body guy, and the man there recommended Eddy without hesitation. Now we see why.  We are in complete agreement with Eddy’s associate, whose opinion of the whole business is perfectly expressed in this picture:

Eddy's helper2

Cluck!

11 Sunday Dec 2011

Posted by farfalle1 in Animals in the U.S., Arizona, Photographs, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Chicken coops, chickens, hens, Raising hens, Tour de Coops, Valley Permaculture Alliance

Chicken people are happy people.  My intrepid friend Mrs. H and I learned this when we went to downtown Phoenix last weekend for the third annual Tour de Coops. That’s right, downtown Phoenix! Urban agriculture is alive and well in the Valley of the Sun, in part due to the efforts of the Valley Permaculture Alliance, under whose auspices the Tour is sponsored.

Twenty-one generous chicken farmers opened their coops to several hundred visitors, all of whom probably asked the same tiresome questions. How many chickens do you have? (anywhere from three to a dozen or so); how old are your chickens? (anywhere from six months to eleven years); do you eat your chickens? (yes. no.);  how many eggs do you get a day? (in general about two eggs for every three chickens);  what are the names of your chickens? (way too many to list; some of my favorites were  Itchy, Lafawndut, St. Alfonso’s Pancake Breakfast, Waffles, Tika, Roti and Catchatori); is it really fun to have chickens in the back yard? (YES!)


The Tour was meticulously organized. Tourists registered at one of two starting points where they were given a muslin shopping bag containing water and chick feed (thank you Fresh Foods and Nutrena) and a thirty-two page directory of the Coops on the tour which was a model of clarity. Each coop location had its own page with a map indicating its location and a brief description of the coop and its inhabitants.

Mrs. H and I did not have time or energy (mostly energy) to visit all twenty-one coops, but were mightily impressed by the ones we did see. Coops come in all sizes and shapes, and are as diverse as the people who devise them. The first coop we visited was belonged to Maggie and Bjorn Olson. It was the only portable coop we saw:

The Van Slyke coop is renowned for its chandelier:

The Poulins pay homage to their roots in Vermont and New York with their barn-like coop:


As diverse as the Chicken People are, they all share an interest in sustainable living and in gardening (what else are you going to do with the chicken poop?). Whether on the ground or in raised beds, the veggies these families are growing are uniformly robust and appetizing.

But I digress. Let’s get back to the hens and their houses. Each coop we saw had several nesting boxes where the girls take turns laying their eggs. By the way, egg production is the impetus for a huge amount of self-congratulatory clucking. The Taylors were dealing with a broody hen in one of their boxes:


Every now and then a hen just decides that she must sit on her egg(s) and will peck at anyone who tries to remove them. Fortunately hens are not the smartest birds in the world, and a plastic egg or even a golf ball will satisfy a broody bird. (This is, in fact, the genesis of all those plastic eggs that children receive at Easter. They are hatched from other plastic eggs by broody hens. The chocolate inside them, as we all know, is from the bunnies. But again, I digress.)

Each coop has an integral yard outside the structure itself. Like all of us, hens like to move around and need a little space in which to do so. They like to take dirt, dust, or sawdust baths to clean themselves – they fluff around in the dirt, the what-ever-it-is they want to get rid of sticks to the dirt, and then they groom out the whole business from their feathers.

Most of the owners let their hens out to ‘free-range’ for at least part of the day. Depending on the neighborhood they may or may not need supervision. Watchful chicken parents are not worried about gangs or drugs; those close to the city worry about the peregrine falcons that now hunt from the tall buildings.

We saw quite a variety of chicken breeds. The most common were probably the Barred Rocks, the Ameraucana, and the Buff Orpingtons. At the Perry house we saw exotic and silly looking polish hens:

And at the Olesen house we admired a pair of turkeys. They turn blue when they’re upset or uneasy. Probably the combination of all the guests and the proximity to both Thanksgiving and Christmas ruffled their feathers.

I’d like to say a few more words about the organization of the Tour, because it really impressed us. Each house was identified by a large yellow chicken cut-out sign, which was very helpful as we drove down unknown streets hunting for house numbers.

Volunteers staffed a table in front of every house to check visitor bracelets and to ensure that every visitor stepped through the foot bath and used the hand sanitizer.

All the owners were on hand to talk about their hens, and many had posters describing the various chicken breeds present. Some of these posters were made by grown-ups, some by children, and at the Williams house the hens did all the work.


If you are interested in more photographs from the Tour de Coops, pop on over here and select the slide show option.

If you are interested in more information on the Valley Permaculture Alliance (“committed to promoting the conscious design of cultivated urban ecosystems to include diversity, stability and resilience”), visit their web-site here, where you can find out more about their mission and the many classes they offer in its service.

Whence thy egg?

14 Sunday Jun 2009

Posted by farfalle1 in Animals in Italy, Birds in Italy, Food, Italian habits and customs, Italy, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

chickens, eggs, hens, Italian eggs

rhodeislandredWhen we lived in Connecticut we had a ‘flock’ of hens.  I use the term loosely; we had three hens.  Ever since my grandmother told stories about making little rubbers for her chickens so their feet feet wouldn’t get wet, I wanted to raise chickens.  It seemed more interactive than dolls, and less responsibility than actual children.

Our flock began with a gift of two small banty hens from a friend, which we augmented with the purchase of a Rhode Island Red and a Barred Plymouth Rock.  Oh, they were lovely.  One of the banties became despondent and went under the hen-house to die, but the other three lived with us until we gave them away upon leaving Connecticut, and they gave us just the right number of delicious small blue (the banty) and large brown (the other two) eggs.  BARROCK1

In the U.S. the provenance of the eggs one buys is something of a mystery, as is their age.  In a commercial operation, the eggs are washed and sanitized immediately, and then are sprayed with a thin coat of mineral oil ‘to preserve freshness,’ according to the USA Poultry & Egg Export Council.  The quotation marks are mine, because I suspect it is done more to give the eggs a longer shelf life than for any other reason.  When you buy a carton of eggs in the U.S., you have no idea where they’ve come from, unless the name of the farm is on the carton itself.  And even then you have no way of knowing if the hens were caged or free-range, or what they were fed.  (This is true: leftover bits of chicken at a processing plant are ground up and used as chicken feed.  Blcch.)  Fancier/organic egg producers are likely to advertise their practices on their cartons, but otherwise you’re left in the dark.

Here in Italy every commercially sold egg comes with a code stamped on it.

Egg ID

The first number identifies the life style of the producing hens: 0=biologic (what we might call ‘organic’ in the U.S.)  1 = living in the open (‘free range’)  2 = raised on the ground (something between free range and a cage) and 3 = caged.  The next two letters give the country of origin of the eggs; the next three numbers correspond to the town where the egg was laid; the next two letters are the provincial code of the town; the last three numbers identify the name of the producer (not the hen, the farmer).   So, no mystery about your egg here.  Of course, not all eggs are equally legible.

egg in cup

This one is pretty clear (oh, busted! Now you know we buy eggs from unhappy cage-raised hens in the province of Bolzano.  Shame on us.)  Sometimes the printing is quite smudged so you have no idea what it says.  Note also that there is a use-by date stamped under all the other info.

I haven’t been able to find out what Italian hens eat, but the yolks of their eggs are a rich red-yellow, almost orange.  When we go back to the egg in bowlStates the relatively pale yellow yolks seem anemic to us.  But I must say, even our own flock of Connecticut hens produced the pale American yolk.  It must be something in the Italian diet … even for the chickens.

We always feel good about buying eggs here.  The laying date is stamped on the egg box (they’re sold in quantities of 4, 6 or 10, an odd mix of metric and imperial measurement).  The egg itself will tell us exactly where it comes from.  Italian eggs are not sold from refrigerated cases.  They sit out on the shelf, proud to be fresh enough to do so.

Good as the eggs in the market are, though, the best egg is the one with no identifying marks, save perhaps a little bit of hay or something worse stuck to it, the egg your neighbor gives you.

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