etc
Still, I have the ethical compass of a half-digested Jurassic Park technician and kind of want them to hatch the dino-chickens anyway.
I was thinking about this while I was creeping around the basement in the dark, looking for Chucky. All her chicken craters had been devoid of eggs for over a week, and now Herself was missing as well. I stuck my head in the gap between the basement and the underside of the house. "Chucky?" By my feet, something suddenly made a loud, horrible, gurgling crrAAWRRllgarble noise. Like a big damn hero, I panicked and ran away.
"HELP HELP CHUCKY IS DYING SOMETHING FELL ON HER MAYBE." I am not good with injuries. I am good with vomit and poop and gross bugs and homeless drug addicts.
The man dutifully found a flashlight and went down to the basement while I minced around behind him. He pulled the boxes away and Chucky started her death-crawing again. There she was, crouched in the corner, swelled up like a really angry loaf of bread. She bit his arms as he picked her up, wishing she had teeth, probably. "She's fine. Oh, geez." I pushed around him to see, and LO, there were all the goddamn eggs, hoarded in a clutch in the corner of the basement. I used my shirt as a basket and gathered them up while Chucky cussed at us. A fresh dozen! Eggs can sit under a chicken for a few days and be just fine. They are nature's perfect container.
Since this event, I have lost the chickens and eggs again. The hens come for snacks and hugs every morning and then vanish mysteriously until we fish them out of the lychee tree with the broom at bedtime. I'll be on the prowl for eggs like a wily mongoose during my next day off.
(I told this story on my livestream but I'm just noting it here for posterity. VERY IMPORTANT CHICKEN LORE.)
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