As I closed the hens' door to their pen, I fed them so they could eat before sleep. Moments before, I had found the first egg since December 16th, and was so happy I could have it for breakfast. Usually, I eat two, but I will eat one. Patsy Cline lays eggs only half the size of Thelma's so it takes two eggs for breakfast.
I did not want to climb the steps to put the egg in the kitchen, so I put the precious egg in the yogurt container that held their dinner of oats. I put it carefully in the car so it would not break.
When I got out of the car back at home, I was foolish and carried a "lazy man's load"--too much. I put one foot out of the car , stood, and dumped the egg due to having too much in my hands and arms.
I felt something touch my pants and heard a tiny noise. What was that? It was pitch dark, so I had to bend so far to even see it. My heart sank as I looked down. Breakfast was broken. I have no more eggs.
Three hours later, nothing has eaten it.
Today, exbf will fetch me some of my frozen eggs, frozen for just such an occasion this winter when egg production dropped off. I hope these hens get enough light as sunrise comes earlier each day since the winter equinox.
I know--to others it's just an egg. To me it was my breakfast.
UPDATE: I have another egg today. So, maybe the few minutes of extra daylight are helping the hens lay. Plus, exbf got a half-pint jelly jar with five eggs out since I want to make pound cake. I asked him to bring in two jars 4-oz. jars with two eggs in each one. So, I will be set until he comes next week, even if the hens lay no eggs.
Have you ever ruined or had ruined the last of anything that you planned to eat? Have you broken your only egg? Tell me and entertain me, please.