Alvin, Simon, & Theodore. The Chipmunks.
Here’s my little grey guy. Or girl. Anyone out there know how to tell? Before they start laying eggs, I mean. This one is the only one I can pick out of a lineup. Isn’t he sweet?
Same one. He’s also the smallest one in there, I think. Naturally I’d pick him as the favorite, right? I usually find myself rooting for the underdog.
I think I’ll be going back to the drawing board for a new-and-improved chicky house. Our modified cardboard box with scrap plywood on top is not making the grade. And I’m kind of sad that they’re tucked away in the basement. I hardly know they’re there. The plus side: they’re much more low maintenance than I expected, but I’d like them to be a bit more visible.
On to other business: will you look at the size of this egg??!
I think it may be some kind of joke the hens are playing on me. It is, in fact, the second egg of this size we’ve seen. The first one was carefully packed in the fridge with the other “normal” sized eggs until a giant, chubby-fingered monster pulled it out and crushed it, repeating over and over “I broke the tiny, tiny egg.” This went on for a few days – strangers in the grocery store know all about it now.
So here we are with tiny, tiny egg: take 2. I’m going to try to keep it intact long enough to blow it out and proudly display it somewhere in the house, perhaps in our “curiosities of nature” wing, next to the picture of the bearded lady.
And to wipe that image from your imagination, try focusing on this: a promise that Spring’s right around the corner. It is, right??!
Ahh. That’s better.