Nest Egg

I let the chickens out of their run and Dirty Birdie wasn’t there. She’s usually waiting at the gate while Lucy is still finding her way out of the coop. I went in the coop to look for her and she wasn’t there either. A deeply sinking feeling set in just as I heard her softly call from under the ramp. There she was, half way buried in the pine shavings, cooing at me. I knelt down and she stood up, showing me her first perfect little green egg. She quickly sat down again, cooing like she was telling me how proud she was and to please not take her egg. Each time I stood up she called again, so I just sat there with her for a while while she told me all about it. When she finally got up, I told her she had to use the nest boxes next time, but left the egg there.
The next day, she wouldn’t let me out of her sight and managed to run into the shop behind me when I went to check on the babies. She jumped into the plastic tote with the dirty shavings and proceeded to try to make a nest. Gross! I didn’t want to move her because I didn’t know how soon she would lay her egg. I thought she might not want me to sit there watching her, so I turned away. Squawk! I looked at her. She continued to make her nest, so I turned away again. Squawk! Again, I looked at her. Squawk! I looked and watched her continue to make her nest. It’s a fascinating process. She did get tired of it after a while and got out. I put cleaned shavings in the bin and put it in the coop. I placed her egg from the day before in there and she proceeded to roll it around, sit, roll it out, roll it back in, repeat. She finally just left the coop and I left the egg there. She laid her egg on the shelf by the roost that day, but the next egg was in the plastic tote.


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