I have been reflecting on my origins in the last two journal entries, responding to a challenge by a teacher who invited reflection on the world into which we were born. I was born and raised in Montana and I graduated from college in that state. For much of my life I have referred to myself as a Montanan, although I moved away from Montana at the age of 21 and have not lived in that state since. My family, on my mother’s side, were early settlers in Montana. Her maternal grandparents arrived with the push to territorial status. Roy Russell was a trained court reporter, the first person so trained to make it up the Missouri River to Fort Benton. He later served in the territorial capitol of Virginia City and in the state capitol of Helena. As far as I know, none of my immediate lineage were directly involved in mining and the multiple gold rushes that are the stories of the nineteenth century in Montana. That bit of family trivia might be a contributing factor in my perception that the real winners in the gold rushes were not the people who dug in the earth in search of a lucky strike, but rather the merchants who sold those people supplies.

The Great Seal of he State of Montana includes an updated version of the territorial seal, which includes a picture of a sunrise in the mountains, a waterfall, a pick, a shovel, and a plow. Beneath the picture is the official state motto “Oro y Plata,” meaning “Gold and Silver.” When I was growing up I somehow got the impression that the motto was Latin and that Latin was used as a language of scholarship. That notion, however, is incorrect. The phrase is Spanish and its presence in the official territorial seal reflects the brief period of Spanish Rule in the intermountain West before those territories became part of the United States. The reference, regardless of language, is to the mining industry, which was very instrumental in the political organization of the territory and early statehood.

When I took Montana history as a school child, I boasted to my friends that our family’s contribution to the State didn’t come from the pick and shovel, but from the plow. My father’s farm supply store had an antique plow, designed to be pulled by a horse, proudly displayed on the roof. I knew stories of how early miners’ efforts were hampered by the lack of food and how food vendors made huge profits off of those shortages. One of the things we were taught about gold rushes in Montana is that eggs sold for $1 each, a high price by modern standards even before considering inflation.

Stories of high prices for food during mining booms were parts of other places where we lived. The Black Hills of South Dakota, where I lived for the longest period of my life, were shaped by the discovery of gold in the hills and the subsequent rush for riches. Rapid City was first established as Hay Camp, a reference to its role in providing animal feed in support of the mining activities in the hills. I learned stories of mining in Idaho when we lived there. And now, living in Washington, I am learning of the role of our county here in various gold rushes of the mid to late nineteenth century. During the 1849 gold rush to California, there was a sudden growth in the market for lumber. Trees close to the coast were cut, milled, and shipped by sea to California. The area that was to become Whatcom County were we lived, saw entrepreneurs cashing in on the market for cedar shingles. Later, the Fraser and Klondike gold rushes to the north produced markets for a variety of products, including food. There are stories of the price of a single egg climbing from $1 to as high as $3.

I’ve had the price of eggs on my mind recently. Most of the year we don’t pay in money for eggs. We get the eggs we need from our son’s farm, where we trade childcare and farm chores for our share of the abundance of the farm. However, egg production slows in the winter and an unfortunate attack by the neighbors’ dogs last spring resulted in the loss of the core of the egg producing chickens at the farm. New chicks were purchased, but the pullets don’t produce as many eggs, especially during their first winter. So for a little while we have been purchasing eggs at the grocery store.

In December, I could find eggs under $3 per dozen at local stores. A month later, the same brands are selling for $3.50. Premium brands are over $7 per dozen. That’s still not $1 per egg, but it is enough to get my attention. The reason for the fluctuations in the price is supply and demand. The supply is running short while the demand remains high so the price goes up. The shortage of supply is due in part to avian influenza, commonly known as bird flu. The strain of the disease that is circulating among flocks this year is particularly strong and has resulted in a drop of egg production. According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture egg production is 11% lower than last year.

Bird flu is not new. It has been around since the 19th century and emerges every winter. Like the flu strains that affect people, different strains of the disease emerge each year and some strains are more dangerous than others. Among the biggest carriers of the disease are waterfowl, and we have a lot of migrating waterfowl in our area all year round, including birds that winter in our area and nest farther north in the summer.

So far our son’s chickens have not been affected by bird flu. They are fed in protected areas where other birds are not able to get at the food and leave droppings behind that might carry the highly transmissible virus. Larger flocks of free range chickens are more vulnerable because migrating waterfowl feed at night and often take advantage of the domestic birds food sources.

There’s no gold rush going on in our region at present, but I’m keeping my eye on the price of eggs and looking forward to warmer days when the egg production at the farm resumes, as I reflect on the many stories that combine to tell the history of the places where I have lived.