I collected eggs for our breakfast.
Real eggs from real chickens. Some of them were still warm.
I washed our eggs. I washed and washed and washed one egg. And then I said to Moo, "Um, is it supposed to have this, uh, woodgrain pattern on it?"
NO, it was not. It was a wooden decoy egg. I. am. smart.
Moo's brother pointed out that the woodgrain pattern and the flat bottoms should have been pretty obvious signs that the decoys (there were four) were wooden, but I was very busy keeping one eye on the chickens while collecting eggs. I don't have much experience with chickens (when my family lived in the country and my brother had chickens they were eaten almost immediately by dogs or foxes, as was our rabbit and the neighbor's goat, which, I believe, was eaten by OUR dogs), but I've had enough encounters with geese and emus to know that many feathered animals are wicked creatures with desires to attack me. You gotta be on high alert around them.Once I stopped trying to prepare wooden eggs for us, we cooked up the actual eggs produced by the actual chickens.
Delightful.
2 comments:
I think that Moo's brother (owner of the chickens) secretly delights in not informing people who offer to gather the eggs that there are dummy eggs. He was inwardly laughing when he sent me to check a couple of spots known that the freerange chicken were laying.
i want to live on a farm.
that's all.
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