In search of blue eggs...

Holly bought four Legbar chicks to add to her hen collection last weekend.

We saw an advert in the local paper advertising Legbars for sale at £8 each, declaring them to be prolific layers - of blue eggs. Yes, blue eggs! We knew that some hens could lay coloured eggs, we’d even seen some blue egg laying hens at a local show, but Holly and I had no idea what sort of hens could perform this miracle – but we were keen to have some of these magical creatures, so we decided to get some.

I rang the number in the small ad. A man with an Eastern European accent answered and confirmed that he did indeed have some Legbar chicks for sale, that they were to be found at Trearddur Bay on Anglesey, that he could meet us after three o’clock that afternoon at the chicken field, and that – yes - they really did lay blues eggs once fully grown. At least that’s what I think he said – he really did have quite an accent.

We placed the hen carrier (a large cat box) in the boot of the car and set out in search of blue laying hens.

Trearddur Bay is an odd place. The village is located south of Holyhead on the west coast of Holy Island just off the north-west coast of Anglesey. Crossing the picturesque ‘four mile bridge’, it feels like you are driving onto an island – water, or the promise of water, seems to be all around you - and the village itself has that feeling of abandonment and desertion without being abandoned and deserted. Perhaps it’s the dunes and the spaces that surround the two general shops, garage, and hotels that sit amidst Trearddur’s two golf courses.

We drove along the sea road guided by the sat-nav - past tiny rocky bays and inlets where kayakers kayaked and scuba divers scubed, up the hill, around the corner, past the white house, up the hill some more… until we were lost. It’s so easy to get lost on Anglesey. Luckily we had a flickering single signal bar on one of our three mobile phones so were able to ring the chicken seller who managed to tell us, before the signal faded and died, that he was waiting for us a little further along the road in an old blue Citroen. He was standing by the car and we would recognise him as he was carrying a copy of the Telegraph and wearing dark glasses… what was this – a spy novel?

We found him - he was accompanied by either his daughter or his extremely young wife.

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“Bezt leaf zee car haire… mud!’ He said from behind his dark glasses.

And indeed there was mud; lots of mud and lots of chickens in a large fenced field, dotted here and there with runs and hen-houses. He opened the door to one of the hen-houses and we were amazed to see scores of small, fluffy, Legbar chicks scatter in all directions. Ten chick-chasing, chick-sexing, feather-flying minutes later we had parted with our £32, been given instructions on feeding, shown a very pale blue (almost ice-white) egg, shaken hands, walked across the muddy field and were back in the car - our new Legbar chicks chirping nervously in the boot.

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The man smiled and waved, watching us from behind his dark glasses as we drove away - and as he receded in the distance of my rear view mirror I wondered what part of Eastern Europe he was from. Perhaps I should have asked him? But even if I had would he have told me?

After all – he was a spy.

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It’ll be a while before the Legbars start to lay - I wonder if the eggs really will be blue?