I have a goose egg in the fridge. It is wrapped in a paper towel and nestled in a plastic cup because it was too big for the egg shelf in the fridge door - a goose egg is three times the size of that of the typical fowl. This goose egg is from our visit to Moonshadow Farm. All the way home from the farm Frost and Alexander (who also has a goose egg) were planning how they would keep their eggs warm under a hot light and then build cages for their baby geese. Alexander was sure his mother would let him raise a goose in the yard while Frost nagged and begged for the Right To Raise the Goose.
The whole business was made more poignant because they saw the egg being layed and the farmer reached in and stole it for them. Also, he told them it was a fertile egg and that they had a pair of geese raising goslings. Then we walked around to the coop and run where another pair of geese had about 8 two-week old goslings waddling around. The male stuck his neck out and hissed with a wide pink mouth, his tongue quivering. Its also hard because I want Frost to be a boy who has a pet goose. I can see him with his goose following along behind. Josh and I are the type of people who want to incubate eggs that have fallen from nests, even if they have (perhaps) been pushed by forces of nature. We tend to the sentimental.
It was with faux conviction that I persuaded Frost to put the egg in the fridge. Now, I am going to have to get creative with my baking because there is no way I can eat a scrambled goose egg. It's weird, but I am squeamish about it - even the very fresh chicken eggs with their bits of feather and bright orange yolks give me pause. I have become used to my food coming in a aseptic packaging - being deanimated and removed from the source, processed and presented as inorganic matter. So much for the notion of being a farm girl but perhaps it is not too late for Frost who is so squeamish about anything from animals that he can detect cows milk in a smoothy and rejects butter on his toast.
Otherwise, we could just (re)embrace veganism and own our squeamishness as conscience and be done with raising fish, hoof and fowl on our future land.
1 comment:
I'm sending a link to Sharon at Moonshadow to see your blog. I know she will get a kick out of it! We have gone through several episodes of Brynn trying to hatch a chicken egg - on the hot air register, under a lamp. The conditions are very specific; the temperature and humidity must be exact. Plus, Brynn could never be consistent for the 21 days it takes. Always such a disappointment, though.
As far as eating the egg - put it in a cake, or in an omelette with lots of veggies so its not so identifiable. Those darn things are huge!
Lynn
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