Gravity is a harsh mistress.

Yesterday, The Man left for work with six eggs for a coworker. This is pretty common practice around here; word spread pretty quickly that we have pastured hens fed organic feed. The Man called me yesterday morning to let me know those six eggs hadn’t quite made it to the customer.

He was opening the passenger door of his truck when the egg carton found its way, unattended, to the pavement below. Ouch. Now, I am a tall woman with disproportionately long legs, and I have a hard time getting up into this truck. You can only image the terror of these poor defenseless eggs.

The Man saw a goopy, yolky mess inside the carton and promptly put it back into the bag, without further recon, for me to deal with later. Which is fine.

Upshot: two eggs didn’t make it, and the others went to make scrambled eggs (ha!) for the flock this morning. There is no more coveted treat than scrambled eggs, let me tell you. They’ll cut a bitch.

Now, that may seem strange, or creepy, or cannibalistic, but it was their first food, in the shell, and they never lose a taste for it. It’s not any more disturbing than an adult drinking milk. If it were human breast milk.

Moving on…

I videoed the chowdown this morning, and posted it on the Heedley’ Hens Facebook Page. As a bonus, you get to hear my mortifying treat call: “looklooklooklooklook“, a call which, after over a year of dedicated practice, has finally been expertly mimicked by Stepdaughter the Elder, if three octaves higher than the original. Ouch.

It’s when the treats be good that one can most clearly observe the pecking order in action; you’ll note that 1.0 rules the treat dish, although the Australorps now get right in there without hesitation. The two bigger Wyandottes feed right at the dish, as well, but you’ll notice that little Gidget works the periphery, looking for a chunk of egg to steal.

And three are missing from the feast: Alexia is feeling a bit sorry for herself since she lost her tail feathers, methinks, and not up to being the bottom hen of 1.0, and 2.1 didn’t even try to compete this morning.

They’ll get there…


3 thoughts on “Gravity is a harsh mistress.

    • Mine have always had scrambled eggs as a once-in-a-while treat, and even picked up after a cracked night egg, and I haven’t had a deliberate egg eater yet. Fingers crossed. Apparently, it’s not as common as you might think…

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