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Wednesday |
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When I was a kid at
Easter I'd be given a plastic basket with shredded
green plastic "grass" in the bottom in which would be placed snap-together plastic eggs that contained little plastic toys or candy (plastic-wrapped). Now I find myself in a henhouse twice a day collecting eggs from little cubbies (the chickens are free range but everyone likes a place to call home). Sometimes I reach under the hens to where it's unbelievably warm and soft and find as many as half a dozen. They lay 'em, move on, and forget. Birdbrains, I guess. Still, some cluck and fret. In that case I pet them to ease the pain of separation. I apologize. Some squawk and peck, others seem more philosophical or perhaps just apathetic. (What's the difference?) Then it's down to the garage where I place the take in cartons for distribution to the community after brushing away bits of nesting material or scrubbing off shit with a green abrasive pad. The operation loses money but the point is to provide wholesome food cheap. The young chickies agree: cheep cheep cheep, they say. |