Hens lay fewer eggs when they days get shorter; their bodies tell them it’s time to rest, just as we feel the need to stay inside and rest when daylight fades early. Yesterday, I got two eggs from my eight hens; today I got one egg, and that one egg will not make it to the table.
My three-year-old daughter wanted to carry the egg, which she did, and to hold it (we didn’t go directly to the house) for awhile. I tried to get her to lay it down, but she wasn’t interested in doing that, and I didn’t want to make an issue of the egg. Three-year-olds can be careful, right?
Then the predictable conversation occurred: “I not break it, Mommy.” “Okay, good. Be careful!”
“Uh-oh Mommy, I break it a little bit. There’s a crack. It not open up.” “Okay, be careful!”
In the interim I was trying to get a fence up so the chickens didn’t destroy my garden, and was shooing away a chicken that was pecking at my Brussels sprout plant.
“UH-OH MOMMY!! (egg streams through the fingers). I breaked it!!”