“I made the first egg hen for my mother’s birthday in 1983. I never thought I’d be making the last one.” — Why a 71-year-old Iowa farm wife is letting her last hand-painted hen egg baskets go at a special price, before her brushes go back in the drawer for good.

At seven every morning, Wanda Kittleson walks back from the henhouse with 18 brown eggs in her apron. She sets them, one by one, into a little wire basket on her kitchen counter. Then she puts a white ceramic hen on top.

She made that hen herself. She has made about 2,600 of them since 1983.

Wanda is 71. She lives on a small farm outside Decorah, in the green hills of northeast Iowa. She has kept chickens since she was six years old. Right now there are 22 hens in the coop, and her husband Dale still checks on them before breakfast.

“Some people count sheep to fall asleep. I count eggs. It’s been 18 a day lately. That’s a good number.”

The dish towel that started it all

Wanda’s mother, Alma, kept her eggs in a wire basket too. She covered it with a dish towel to keep the dust and the flies off. And every single morning, the towel slid off.

Wanda watched her mother pick that towel up off the floor for years. In the fall of 1982, she signed up for a pottery class at the community college. She had one thing in mind.

For Alma’s birthday in 1983, she gave her a lid shaped like a hen. It looked like Pearl, the best layer Alma ever had. Wanda painted little red berry sprigs on it, the same ones that were on her mother’s favorite apron.

“I made the first one so my mother would stop chasing that towel. She cried. Then she showed it to every neighbor on the road.”

By Christmas, three neighbors wanted one. By spring, there was a line at Wanda’s table at the Decorah farmers market. Alma kept her hen on the counter, full of eggs, until the day she died in 2004. Today it sits on Wanda’s shelf.

Six hours, 120 berries, one hen

Wanda’s studio is the old milk room next to the henhouse. It smells of wet clay and straw. On the windowsill, a row of white hens waits for paint. Outside, the real ones are busy and loud.

One hen basket takes her about six hours, spread over a week. She shapes the hen from clay. She lets it dry. It goes into the kiln twice. Then she paints every berry and every leaf by hand, about 120 on each hen. Last of all, she bends the black wire for the basket around an old wooden block.

That is why she never made more than about 60 a year.

“You can’t hurry a hen. Not the real ones and not the clay ones.”

Two patterns, both from the farm

• Cherry Sprig: The red berry sprigs come from Alma’s apron. This is the pattern Wanda painted on the very first hen.
• Garden Bloom: Red, blue and yellow flowers, like the zinnias and cornflowers in Wanda’s own garden behind the house.

What 43 years of fresh eggs taught her about a basket

Wanda gets the same comment from almost everyone who buys one: “It’s even nicer in person.” Then they ask why it’s made the way it is. She has an answer for every part.

• “The Coop-Wire Basket”: The basket is made from the same kind of six-sided wire as a chicken coop. Air gets to the eggs from every side. “Eggs need to breathe,” Wanda says. “My mother knew that before anybody wrote it down.”
• “The Sitting-Hen Lid”: The hen is heavy, glazed ceramic. It keeps dust, light and fruit flies off and sits firm on the basket. “A towel slides off. A hen stays put.”
• “The Hand-Brushed Sprig”: Every berry and every flower is painted by hand. No two hens are exactly alike. “If you want a printed one, you can buy those anywhere.”
• “The Full-Day Belly”: The basket is almost 8 inches wide and holds a full day of Wandaholds about a day and a half of Wanda’s eggs#8217;s eggs, about a dozen and a half. Two wire rings on the sides let her carry it to the coop and back. When the eggs run low, she fills it with onions, apples or dinner rolls.

The morning her thumb said no

What Wanda will miss most is the hour before breakfast in the milk room. The coffee going cold on the shelf. The hens talking outside. The first red berry of the day.

In the spring of 2025, the doctor found arthritis in her right thumb. It will not get better. She can still bend wire. She can still carry a feed sack. But she can no longer hold the fine brush for the little berries.

“Last week I painted a berry and it came out looking like a ketchup stain. That’s when I knew.”

In October, she fired the kiln for the last time. There is no one to take over. 212 hen egg baskets are left, both patterns together. After that, the kiln will be sold.

“A hen with no eggs under her is just a fancy hat”

For 43 years, Wanda sold every hen basket at the market for $30. For her last 212, she could ask three times as much. Everybody would understand. She won’t.

“I don’t want them on a shelf in some collector’s house. I want them on a counter, full of eggs, with somebody making breakfast.”

Wanda doesn’t use a computer. Her grandson Tanner, who works in Cedar Rapids, kept getting calls from people in Minnesota and Wisconsin who couldn’t make it to Decorah on a Saturday. So he set up the page where you can order now. He takes the pictures on Wanda’s kitchen table and packs every box himself.

“Tanner does the internet. I do the hens. Both kinds.”

Whoever takes home one of her last hens is taking a little piece of Alma’s kitchen with them.

What people say about Wanda’s hens

• ★★★★★

  “We have 9 hens, and the eggs used to sit in a cereal bowl. Now they sit under Wanda’s hen and my kitchen looks like my grandmother’s. Heavier and nicer than I expected.”

  Deborah L., Rochester, MN
• ★★★★★

  “My mother had one just like this in the 1980s. When I unpacked it, I had to sit down for a minute. Every berry is painted by hand, you can see the brush marks.”

  Sharon T., La Crosse, WI
• ★★★★★

  “Bought the Garden Bloom one for my daughter, who just got her first chickens. It came packed so well, not a single chip. She sent me a picture full of eggs the next morning.”

  Kathy M., Ames, IA

Three questions people ask before ordering

Where can I buy one of Wanda’s hen egg baskets?

Only through this page. Wanda’s hens are not sold on Amazon, Temu or in any store.

How long will they be available?

Only while supplies last. The kiln has been fired for the last time, and there are 212 hen baskets left across both patterns. Once a pattern is gone, it is gone for good.

What if it’s not right for me?

You have 30 days to try it at home. If you are not happy, just send a short email and you will get your money back. No questions, no hassle.

More from people with a hen on the counter

• ★★★★★

  “Good heavy ceramic, not that thin stuff. The lid sits tight, and I can see at a glance when we’re running low on eggs.”

  Joyce R., Cedar Falls, IA
• ★★★★★

  “I ordered the Cherry Sprig and then went back for the Garden Bloom. One holds eggs, the other holds onions. My husband says we have a flock now.”

  Brenda K., Sioux Falls, SD
• ★★★★★

  “Gave it to my mother for her 80th birthday. She grew up on a farm in Nebraska and said it looked just like her kitchen did. Worth every penny for her face alone.”

  Pamela W., Omaha, NE