What?

I woke up and let the dog out this morning. He's been naughty in the yard, chasing squirrels and the baby raccoon that has joined out menagerie of neighborhood critters. He only goes out on his long lead that's on a tether so he can't annoy the neighbors too much, since he could easily jump the fence.

There were ducks in the back yard (no big deal, I live on a huge park with a huge duck population) and his intimidating "wuuf" scared them off. I thought nothing of it because they'd been behind a big pile of shrubs I've removed and need to recycle and I figured they were enjoying a snack of slugs. They eat a lot of the things I don't want in my garden so I leave them be.

Then, an hour later, I walked out into the yard with Ez (so I didn't have to tether him again) and what should I find? He was sniffing madly around the spot where the ducks had been. And there, in the middle of the lawn, was an egg.



He didn't try to eat it yet, but I rescued it from the ground where he, the raccoons or the neighborhood cats would eat it. And I rushed it to the front yard, closer to the duck population. "Emergency egg removal," if you can use your imagination. I'm such a geek.

It won't hatch, of course, even if the ducks rediscover it because it was abandoned and I touched it. I have to wonder, Joey, how you'd feel about a freshly laid egg on your stoop in the city? Annie, with the loss of your guinea, I want to hatch this little duckling on your behalf. But I'm not equipped to be a duck-mom again. One of these days, I'll have to share the story of the ducklings we gave my mom for Mother's Day one year.

I have a feeling this won't be the first egg discovered near my little nest. And here I've been writing about omelets....