To Reach a Little Higher, Dig a Little Deeper -- or Simply Lay A Little Extra

It has been a 12-egg day.  Not bad, really -- especially in light of the ones preceding it.  This week has seen an oscillating escalation, from 9 on Sunday to 11 on Monday followed by 10 just yesterday.  An even dozen today seems like a natural progression. 

And I'll admit, there is something satisfying about a full carton.  I think it has only happened once before since we began this little hen house odyssey, and so I don't take the benchmark lightly.  Of course that prior harvest was even more of a celebration given that we had fewer chickens to produce the tally.  Now, with the four more recent arrivals commencing their contributions (I know this to be so because of the recent appearance of their smaller pullet eggs) and bringing our active number to 17, a "mere" dozen seems rather stingy.  I'm proud to a point, but only to that point.

Ironically, while mulling such muted enthusiasm, my friend Mike tags me on this Facebook photo that hit rather close to home.  It carried the caption, "chicken shaming."

Now, I think anyone who has been around our chickens, and been around me with our chickens, will attest that I am a pretty generous flock master.  I take seriously the "kindly tended" descriptor on the egg carton label.  I talk to the girls, I pick them up and cuddle them when they ask.  I brag about them to friends and strangers alike.  In lieu of grandkids I carry pictures of them on my phone and inflict photographic torture on anyone who pauses long enough for me to key in my security code.  I gush about the colors and the feather patterns, I recite the list of breeds as though it were a mantra.  Indulgent to a fault, I pamper and protect and attend religiously to their every need.  I even bought traps and, more than laughably, a .22-rifle to deal with any predators on the off-chance that I could retrieve the bullet from my shirt pocket, Barney Fife-like, in time to put it to any use.  I'm hardly a harsh or demanding overseer.

And I'm not asking for gratitude.  But really:  12?  I am compelled to arrive at this undeniable truth:  like the sign in the photo says, somebody out there is slacking and needs to kick it up a notch.  It's not my intention to resort to shaming or threats, but come on now.  We can reach for higher goals.  We can dig a little deeper.  I'm not expecting them to earn higher degrees or become doctors or lawyers or entrepreneurs.  Not even preachers. 

I'm simply looking for a few more eggs.   I don't think that's too much to ask.  So, get out there and lay one for the Gipper.

Whatever that means.