…or, “Honey, I think we have chickens or dinosaurs living in the pasture.”
Over the years I’ve found some pretty funky stuff in the pastures surrounding our home, including at least one lost, mentally ill human.
As I was mowing today, I saw some interesting stuff, including a number of white, ball-shaped mushroom growing close to the ground. I also noted that hundreds of peaches are ripe on one of Dorothy’s trees, and I have been eating on them since I got home Wednesday from my vacation.
As I mowed near the north brush pile, I saw something that looked too big to be one of those mushrooms. It almost looked like a hen’s egg. We don’t have chickens, although at one time we had a gaggle of guinea fowl who frequented the patch. (They have long since disappeared, probably eaten by coyotes.)
I picked up the object to discover it was an egg, about the size of an extra-large hen’s egg. It wasn’t in a nest or burrow of any kind, and if I hadn’t seen it I would certainly have mowed it. I brought it inside and showed it to Abby, who also had no clear idea who had laid it.
I photographed it, then carefully broke it open, just in case a hungry pterodactyl emerged. Inside was standard yellow yoke and clear albumen. Now I wonder if we have chickens.