OK here is a historical story that is part of my family lore. One branch of my family is Scotch-Irish. The Scotch meant they started in the lowlands of Scotland, then got resettled by the British into Ulster, then got tired of the Brits and immigrated in about 1725 through Charleston to to the frontier, what is now King's Mountain in North Carolina. Time passes and more neighbors arrive and the original group, who were all more-or-less related, began to feel crowded and started looking further west. They decided to move as a group to what is now Pope County, Arkansas, in the 1840s.
My direct ancestors, John and Sarah, were on this trek when they somehow lost all their chickens. Whether to a varmint (most likely) or whatever, this would be a serious blow to a pioneer family. Realistically, all they had for livestock while they were on the move was probably a crate of poultry, maybe a horse and some few cattle. Losing the chickens was no joke!
They passed another pioneer cabin along the way, and somehow bartered for some eggs. Apparently they couldn't get any chickens, but the eggs were fertile of course. But...But...they didn't have any broody hen to set the eggs (or any other hen for that matter!).
No problem...
Sarah, and probably some of the other women too, carried the fertile eggs in their (ahem) "bosoms" and what do you know? A few weeks later they had the start of another flock.
How is that for a family chicken story?? ;-)
neither one ever leaves his side.
