Scrambled or poached?
We found this robin’s nest hidden beneath some brush when we were clearing trees at the lake this past weekend. We waited …
and waited …
and waited …
and waited …
Momma robin never showed up. Since the temperature dropped to zero every night, it was safe to assume the baby bird wouldn’t survive.
Our seven-year-old grandson (who is in a constant state of near starvation, according to him) had a brilliant idea.
Me: Since the mommy hasn’t come back, I don’t think the egg will hatch.
He: So what’s inside it? A dead bird?
Me: No. I suppose it will be like a chicken egg.
He (excited): So can we eat it for breakfast?
Me: EEEEEWWWWWWW!!! :yuck:
Jean Says:
From another grandmother of a seven-year-old boy, sounds very seven-year-old boy to me. So, when did you acquire a seven-year-old grandSON?
Margery Says:
Jean, he and his ten-year-old brother are recent additions to our family.