More casualties

Yesterday was our first five-egg day! Alas, only four made it to the frig. And today only two made it safely into cold storage. But it's not what you're thinking - we haven't had a broken egg in the henhouse since we modified the boxes (and one of them wasn't a "chocolate" egg from Welsie, although she did seem to be taking notes while this Rhodie did her job).

No, last night when Rick and I headed to the barn to do chores in the dark, Rick found a broken egg in the driveway. There was only one explanation; Brian had dropped one on the way back to the house. I was disappointed, not only in losing a precious* egg, but also in my son for not owning up to the accident.

*Perhaps only those of us who have waited impatiently for fluffy little chicks to grow up and lay their first eggs, like Pamela, can understand just how precious these fresh-from-the-chicken-with-a-name-and-personality eggs are. They are certainly more valuable than those so-called fresh eggs from the grocery store, especially if you figure in the hens' housing, feed, the time to care for them, etc.!
This morning I asked Brian if anything had happened yesterday when I sent him to check for eggs. The little fibber looked me in the eye and said, "No. Why? What do you mean?" So I told him we had found an egg on the driveway, and he continued to deny any knowledge of how it got there. I continued to gaze at him while he talked, and he finally looked up and off, saying, "Let me think. Oh yeah, now that I've thought about it, I remember; I did drop one." I told him I was disappointed in him, not because he accidently dropped an egg, but because he hadn't told me what happened the day before, and then lied about it when asked. He then allowed how there had been another casualty some other day down by the henhouse. Sigh.

This evening when I got home I checked the henhouse for eggs myself, and found one. I took it up to the house, setting it on the dog food bin in the garage while I went out to pick tomatoes. When I came back from the garden, the egg was gone. I asked Brian and Rick about it, and while both had seen it, neither claimed to have moved it. That left one possible culprit: Jackson. The garage door was open, and he is not above checking out higher surfaces for interesting tidbits. I'm guessing he knew the egg was a tasty treat from the two that Brian dropped and left on the ground. It's a good thing our hens aren't free-ranging!

That's it for now from . . .