Stirring the Cauldron

New Moon Newsletters from Jessica Prentice

New Egg Moon

April moondark kitchen notes
from Jessica Prentice

The moon is new! We have entered the lunar cycle known as the Egg Moon in Colonial America. The Egg Moon means that spring is here, the days are longer, and the hens are laying more and more eggs.

On old-fashioned family farms, hens lay fewer eggs during the winter when nights are long and days are short, and more eggs when there is more daylight. This is a natural hormonal response. In modern factory farms, year-round artificial lighting tricks hens into constant laying, and there's no rest for the weary. But in places where a small flock of hens provides eggs for the family, the Egg Moon is a time to celebrate the return of eggs -- a symbol of spring, of regeneration, of rebirth -- and one of Earth's most perfect foods.

As some of you know, I am currently at a writing residency where I am finishing the manuscript for the book I'm writing, which is due May 1. It is beautiful here. The residency is just ten minutes away from Point Reyes Station and so is surrounded by national park and protected agricultural land on all sides. That's my idea of heaven. And we are being fed good food and have plenty of time to research, think, and write. I have a little writing cabin overlooking pastures where cattle graze, with forested hills directly across from me. It's a great place to write.

As part of my research, I have been re-reading Lewis Hyde's fabulous book, The Gift. Subtitled "Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property," Hyde's book looks at the nature of a gift, including a fascinating section on gift-exchange in traditional cultures, as well as a look at how gifts function in folk tales and myths. There are a few things he notices about gifts in these traditional settings. One is that a gift needs to keep moving. Part of the sacred/erotic energy of gifts is that the receiver cannot accumulate them -- either a gift needs to be passed on, or another gift needs to be given so that the gift-giving energy keeps moving. Gifts are about flow, and they are meant to circulate.

I'll give you an example based on my present circumstances. The founder of this writing residency had the gift of wealth. Perceiving it to be a gift, it was important that he -- as the receiver of a gift -- should now be the giver. He started a program that houses and feeds writers for a period of time -- a great gift. I am now the receiver of this gift. Being the receiver, it is now my turn to give a gift. In the case of many of the writers who come to this residency, the way we pass on the gift is through the writing. In other words, if my book becomes a gift to those who read it, I have passed on the gift -- I've kept it moving. Those who read my book and receive it as a gift will then pass it on in some other form -- perhaps cook a dinner for a friend using one of the recipes. The person who eats that dinner will have then received a gift, and will in some way pass that gift on again. This is a very large web of gift-giving -- in fact it is endless. It is an open system.

Another aspect of gifts that Hyde points out is that a gift has to be consumed -- many traditional cultures use the word "eaten." To return to the example I have already given -- the founder of this residency took a portion of his gift (his wealth) and used it to create this residency. The wealth is transformed through the purchase of the property, the structure of the house, the building of the writing cabins, the administration of the residency, the payment of the gardeners and caretakers, the purchase of the food, the creation of a wonderful library -- into a gift to writers. In order for me to receive the gift, I need to 'consume' them. I need to stay in the house, eat the food, turn on the heater, walk in the garden, write in the cabin -- I need to receive the gift by eating up each moment that I am here -- I need to be able to take it in. The sense of giftedness then goes into the book and once it is published, in order for you to receive the gift I am offering, you need to consume it. You need to read it and in so doing, have the feeling that you have received a gift. If you do, then you will share it -- in some way I don't know. The gift will keep circulating.

Of course there are many gifts operating simultaneously as well -- I am receiving Lewis Hyde's gift as well, the gift of his book. He too was a writer in residence here, so he received the founder's gift as well. I got the book years ago when a friend gave it to me as a gift, and it bears her inscription to me. As I read it again I receive her gift again as well. I introduced it to one of the other residents here, and she is reading it and receiving it as a gift. She reminded me of a section that I had forgotten about which will help me with the chapter I am working on, and that was a gift back to me that becomes a gift to my future reader. The gift keeps moving.

Thinking about all of this as we enter the Egg Moon, I find myself seeing eggs as being part of a gift exchange on a family farm. The family gives the chickens shelter, food, a yard to peck around in. The chickens use all of this -- they consume it: eat the food, take shelter in the coop, peck around and eat bugs and weeds in the yard. In return the hens give the family eggs, which the family receives by eating them. Chickens also give the gift of their manure, which is used to fertilize the garden, which produces vegetables that the family also consumes. The chickens also give a gift by eating snails, flies, and weeds that are nuisances to the farmer. When the chicken gets old and is no longer laying many eggs, she goes into the stewpot. Traditional people would view this as a gift as well, and so would not waste any part of the bird, every part would be consumed, would be eaten, would be received by the family. The family may have more eggs than they can eat -- and so they may be given to neighbors, who may give them a jar of jam in return, or some old bread to feed to the chickens, and the gift continues to circulate.

One of my favorite local farmers raises chickens for eggs as part of a cycle with the cows he raises for beef. The chickens follow the cows and peck through the cowpies for larvae and bugs. This sterilizes the manure and enables it to cycle back into the soil naturally (a gift to the earth, the grass, and the air). It also prevents diseases that the cattle would be susceptible to, and so is a gift to the cattle. This makes the cattle naturally healthy and makes medications unnecessary, meaning that their beef is healthier for me to eat, a gift to me. I pay the farmer for the eggs or the meat, he spends it on building movable coops or electrical fences so his animals can thrive on pasture, the cows eat the grasses fertilized by the manure that was pecked through by the chickens, and the whole cycle of gifts continues.

When we put chickens into factory farms, it seems to me that this gift cycle is broken. We are no longer giving to them, we are forcing from them. They no longer give back, they just fulfill their function. The large multinational companies that control the factory farms do not receive all the gifts the chicken has to offer -- its manure, its propensity for eating bugs and weeds, even its life after it has fulfilled its laying function -- all these potential gifts are squandered, they are not 'eaten.' Factory farms do not give the chickens the things they need: a yard to peck around in, clean air, sunlight, a diverse diet that includes bugs and weeds, the space required to develop a healthy immune system. The eggs the hens lay are considered a commodity and not a gift, and so are sold rather than consumed. The money made from them is not viewed as a gift but rather as an asset. These assets are then 'invested' and accumulated rather than given. An empire is built on the backs of those confined chickens. And that is not a gift to any of us, but a loss and a terrible waste.

But the egg is a messenger of hope, and we all need hope in the face of such sadness. So on the Egg Moon, may we all remember that the egg is a symbol of rebirth, of Spring, of fertility, and of life itself -- all great gifts. May we give great thanks for nutritious, old-fashioned, truly free-range eggs and for the farmers that offer us such a gift. May we cook up one of these eggs and eat it, thereby receiving the gift, and keeping it moving.