The Egg

 I never would have thought  a boiled egg (or any egg for that matter) could have such a profound effect on me but one has given me a great insight on just how nice folks are.  (Note here...I said folks and not people.  Folks are those who are family even if they are not related to you.  People...well...people can be related and still not be family.  Just my point of view.)  Anyway, back to that boiled egg and the niceties of life.  Mark and I have always made it a point to share whatever we have.  This was something taught to us by our parents and grandparents and we have carried it along the best that we can.  There have been times when our pantry was quite bare but, somehow, sharing was still top priority.  Mostly we shared with the elderly or those that were down on their luck.  Now that we are among the "elderly" we figure that our duties shall not go the wayside.  We still find those in need and share our "wealth".  It is the neighborly thing to do.  I figure that you cannot gripe about the sorry state of humanity if you are not willing to do your share to better it.

  That egg, however came about because of that sharing.  One sweet lady always finds a way to return the bounty.  Whenever we bring something to her, she sends something home to us.  Since she has chickens, we usually get fresh yard eggs!  There is nothing better!  Today as I was whipping up some pumpkin/pecan bars for Son, I brought out the eggs.  All was going well until the third egg.  It felt a mite odd to the touch and even odder to crack.  Yep, that egg was boiled!  Our sweet friend had inadvertently included a boiled egg with the fresh!  I had to sit down and giggle over that boiled egg!  Oh, sweet lady, I adore you!  When giving the eggs, she was surely not going to give a partial carton!  That, my friends, is what makes folks...well...folks.  They are just plumb nice.

  After finding the boiled egg among the fresh, I have decided that I want to be a "Ms. Teresa" when (if) I reach the age of 90.  I want to be kindhearted, generous and a bit quirky.  I want to give folks happy surprises along with every day gifts.  I want to brighten others days and give them reasons to giggle.  I want to be a "Ms. Teresa". 

Sunsets, Woods Fires and Peach Switches!

   Yesterday evening, the sky was ablaze with brilliance.  The setting sun had cast an eerie glow between the pines and I almost missed the opportunity to witness it.  On a whim, I decided on one last stroll through the Small Gardens.  Again, I was thankful for the camera giving me the chance to get ONE photograph before it had enough for the day.  (It seems that one is its limit for the day.)  

  The fiery glow brought back memories of "fire watch".  Whenever Pop would get word from a neighbor that a woods fire was nearby, we were all "put on guard".  As kids, we knew we had better be alert and let Pop know if we smelled or saw smoke.  It was of high importance because, not only would the house be in danger, but the barns, as well.  The farm animals needed protection, too.  With no fire department anywhere near, it was up to each of us to do our part.  

  There was one time that my brother and I disobeyed the rules about setting fires.  Before we were even school age, he and I decided to "boil" some chicken eggs that we found while searching for an errant hen.  Her nest was found near an upturned washing machine drum that had been used as a feed bin at some point.  We gathered pine straw and a few sticks to start our fire UNDER the tub.  Our eggs were in an old metal coffee can heating on the top (which was actually the bottom of the overturned tub).  Brilliant!   We were going to feast on those eggs!  Well, that did not happen.  We did not take into consideration that the eggs were rotten, that we needed water to boil them and that Pop would smell the smoke.    You can imagine the outcome.  Without water, the rotten eggs exploded and covered us with the most awful stench then...Pop came on the scene.  Oops!  Whew!  Were we ever in trouble!  For any city folks who have never had to suffer a whipping with a green peach branch, trust me when I say "IT HURTS!"  Was that child abuse?  Nope!  THAT, my friends, was discipline (which is something that is sorely lacking in the world today).  Our stupid act could have had a dire outcome for the entire family, the farm animals and our neighbors.  Thankfully, Pop caught us!  My brother and I never....NEVER lit another fire in the woods!  (We, also, learned the proper way to boil eggs.)  Crazy to think a simple sunset can evoke memories from back in the dusty corners of the brain.  

Just a bit of observation...

  This afternoon, a short hike was in order.  Son and I worked all day in the yard ripping out yet more fencing and arbors.  In fact, the place looks quite different now.  Once we completed our tasks for the day, I headed down to the pier.  Along the way, a pungent odor stopped me in my tracks.  Always alert for sounds and smells, I needed to find what was the source.  Critters and plants all have distinctive odors and it is best to know what lies in the path ahead.  It is my habit to never fully depend on sight since my eyesight has been waning somewhat in recent years.  This was more of a stench than the flowery aroma of most plants.  Watch the step!  Once the source was found, it caused a fit of giggles.  Under a tall pine tree, two mushrooms grew side by side.  One was a a red-capped beauty and the other was a type of stinkhorn.  That stinkhorn, of course, was the culprit that was making the lower yard a stinky place.  It is surprising just how large of an area can be affected by such a small thing.  

  This is a Column Stinkhorn meaning it burst out of its egg-like sac with columns or fingers.  Some folks call them Devil's Toadstools while others refer to them as Devil's Fingers.  Both names seem accurate especially due to the color and smell.  The Column Stinkhorns are usually red, pink or orange and the smell is akin to a mountain of smelly socks combined with rotting flesh.  I was fortunate that only one of the mushrooms had "hatched".  

  There is one thing that confuses me with these mushrooms.  Granted, the stinkhorn "eggs" (before they burst out with their orange "fingers") resemble some sort of critter egg, it surprises me just how many folks confuse the two.  Countless times, I have been asked "Are these snake eggs or duck eggs?"  Neither!  Critter eggs are not attached to the ground by root like structures called mycelium.  It takes a good bit of talk to convince some folks that their "find" is going to hatch into stinky mushrooms and not a bundle of fluffy ducklings or a clutch of highly venomous snakes.  Oh, people.  Observe!  Notice things!  Investigate!  Be aware!  Whatever...whatever.

Dutiful Dad!

  We all hear about how the male seahorse carries the eggs and little ones in a pouch but, most of the time, we never hear about a dutiful dad who does an even more remarkable feat.  The Gafftopsail Catfish is a "mouth-breeder".  The male fish carries the fertilized eggs in his mouth for the entire time it takes the eggs to hatch.  This is quite the undertaking as the fish can be carrying around 50 marble-sized eggs at a time!  Think about that one for a minute, here!  For the 65 days that it takes those eggs to hatch, poor, old Dad cannot swallow!  The male fish does not eat for the entire time that he is carrying the eggs!  Once the eggs hatch and the little fish swim out of his mouth, they will seek refuge there any time there is danger nearby for approximately two weeks.  Ok, so the eggs hatch, a bunch of little, 2 inch long fish swim about eating and growing until they are 4 inches long BUT, if danger lurks nearby, they all scoot right back into Dad's mouth!  This sound incredible enough but usually Dad is a fish that is usually less than 20 inches long, himself!  Now go figure!

  The seahorse get all the fame and glory and our catfish simply goes about doing his fatherly duties without complaint.  To my way of thinking, the Gafftopsail Catfish should be voted Father of the Year of the critter world!  He goes above and beyond just to assure that his little ones are safe.  Personally, I have new-found respect for the fish usually dubbed as "trash fish".  By the way, the one in the photo is a tiny one that I caught this morning.  It could not have been hatched for long as it was a mere 6 inches in length!  Little fishy...go back in the water and be safe!  No more biting baits that are on a hook!

Mama Is Busy!

  Early this afternoon, the neighborhood watch sent up their alarm calls causing me to head outside barefoot in the drizzly rain.  If some predator was lurking too near the wren's nest or the new baby squirrels, I wanted to divert its attention.  Instead, it was my attention that was diverted.  About halfway down the hillside to where the marsh comes up near the wild persimmon tree, my foot found soft soil.  Well, that was different.  Looking down, I realized that I stepped into a small hole.  It was then that I noticed several other holes of the same size and pattern dug nearby.  Decoy holes!  

  Decoy holes are what I call the random bunch of holes that a mama cooter turtle will dig before she settles on the perfect site to lay her eggs. Sometimes up to a dozen holes will be dug and abandoned.  The abandonment can caused merely by an unsatisfactory soil condition such as too many roots or perhaps some debris (glass) left over from a hurricane or can be the result of the turtle being disrupted while digging.  The extra holes can also be a ploy to protect her eggs from predators.  Whatever the case, Mama Turtle digs several holes before finally laying her eggs. 

  Since the neighborhood watch of blue jays was in the old oak tree overhanging the marsh, the ruckus was soon forgotten.  Instead, I searched for Mama Turtle.  It was not long before I found her beneath the mimosa tree. She seemed to be content with her latest hole as she was in the midst of depositing eggs there. Not wanting to disturb her, I kept my distance and let her do her egg-laying duty in peace.  The future generation of Bayou Turtles depend on these stoic ladies and their ploy of diverting predators and I sure did not wish for her to think I was one!

In The Family Way...

  There are endless surprises on the Bayou.  There is not a day that goes by that I do not find something that intrigues me.  Then again, it does not take much to draw my attention.  Son claims that I am easily amused.  I suppose I am.  I am interested in a broad variety of things and so I am seldom bored.  With nature, learning is boundless and each event is interesting.  This is the way it should be.  People were not born to be shut up inside houses at all times.  

  This morning as Mark and I headed to the pier, my brother was already on his mower cutting grass.  That is where I should have been but my little push mower was sitting idle as I explored the wonders of the Bayou.  Near the large clumps of palmettos were two old boards that had washed in with the squalls from the Gulf.  I had the brilliant idea that if I moved the boards, perhaps I would be inspired to haul out the mower.  I picked up one board and tossed it on the trash pile to be hauled to the back.  No problem.  But when I grasped the other, I immediately regretted the action.  Oh, geez!  There was something moving under my board!  I really should learn to inspect before just doing.  A large five-lined skink darted out from under the board and raced right across my foot! 

  It was then that I discovered my mistake.  Under the board was another skink and TWO CLUTCHES OF EGGS!  Yep, two mama skinks had laid their eggs under the old board.  The one mama had abandoned her nest and was glaring at me from about four feet away.  She had made a dash out to distract me and hopefully lure me away from her eggs.  The other mama took up a defensive stance and was guarding her eggs.  There were two different actions for protecting their clutches but both mamas were equally justified in their methods.  

  After a couple of photos, I eased the board back down on the nests making sure that I positioned it exactly as I had found it.  I sure did not want to harm the mamas nor their eggs!  I love these lizards.  They are some of the best hunters on the Bayou and are actually beautiful!  Carry on, Little Mamas, carry on.  Your precious eggs shall not be damaged by me!

All Through Except For The Waiting

  Sometimes things are well worth the wait no matter how long that wait is.  The wait happening here on the Bayou can end within 50 days or take as long as 125 days.  It all depends upon the heat.  If we continue to have cooler nights and mornings, things will take much longer than if we suddenly jump into midsummer.  Optimally, 50 to 60 days will see us through the longest part.  I just have to be patient.

  My duration time is not entirely "my" wait.  Earlier today, Son was cooling off a bit from caulking the new siding.  He caulks, I paint.  We were both feeling the heat of the noonday sun so decided a lemonade break was in order.  He wandered about the shady area back behind the canebrake before he came across something rather interesting.  On the highest part of the hill back there, a Cooter turtle had decided "her" time was due.  She dug her nest and deposited up to two dozen eggs in the bottle shaped hole before ambling back down to the Bayou.  There are a number of Cooters and slider turtles that live in the brackish water where the Bayou meets the creek.  Mama Cooter had made that slow trek through the marsh, up the steep hill, dug her nest in hard clay, deposited her eggs, covered the nest and then was laboring to make her way back down to the water.  Son found her just after she had left the nest.

  Poor Mama Cooter was drying out quickly in the noonday sun.  She was covered with a thick layer of clay and was exhausted after her chore.  As much as I wanted to help her back into the water, I knew that I should not intervene.  It was best that she continue as she has every year for probably the past ten or maybe twenty years.  She knew what she was doing and needed no help from me.  She was a large turtle with her carapace being nigh on 15 inches and I am sure she was quite hefty!  

  Son and I watched the turtle for a bit.  He called attention to the fact that her shell showed the ravages of being attacked at some point. Perhaps a young alligator or even a coyote had attacked her causing the abrasions and cracks.  Despite this, she was determined to lay her eggs and insure that a new generation of Cooters would inhabit the Bayou.  Good Mama.  Now all that is left is the waiting and the hopes that the little turtles make it down to the water without being attacked by a predator.  Usually, only one or two will survive the first year.  It is treacherous for little tykes on the Bayou.

Two for the price of one!

  With the cooler nights we are having here lately, I have been in the mood for baking!  During the summer months, the oven heats the kitchen far too hot so things are kept to a minimum but let that temperature chill down a bit and I am one happy camper!  I was up with the birds this morning and ready to bake a batch of chocolate/mint cookies.  It is a good thing that Son loves his cookies because otherwise, I would be a big as a barrel!  Somebody has to eat all of these baked goods!

  To start, I gathered all of my supplies and then warmed the oven. Things were already making me smile.  Butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, vanilla....I started going through the recipe from memory.  Each ingredient was dumped in the large blue and white mixing bowl.  Next came the eggs.  These are fresh eggs from Mark's cousin.  Their chickens run about the place and lay lovely eggs.  We are given a nice supply each week.  I am not complaining at all!  The recipe needed two eggs.  One was cracked into a small bowl to be whipped before adding to the sugar mixture.  Aha!  Surprise!  A double-yolker!!!  Yep, the egg had two yolks!  Now I was in a quandary!  Do I add the other whole egg or just pretend this is two??  No problem.  I cracked the next egg.  I figure it is always better to add on the upside.

  Double yolk eggs are something of a novelty.  They are really not that uncommon on farms but are a rarity from the grocery store.  Those eggs are "candled" to check for conformity.  Occasionally a double yolk egg will slip by but usually not.  On farms, however, it happens more than expected. Why?  Well, a chicken usually lays one egg per day for her cycle.  The undeveloped eggs are held in the hen's ovaries.  Once an egg is laid for the day, a new yolk will slip down into the oviduct and be surrounded by a shell before being laid the next day.  Sometimes, two yolks will slip down and be surrounded by the same shell...hence the double-yolker.  This usually happens in very young hens that have just started laying or in heavy breed hens.

  While this is all good for us, it can be problematic for the poor hen. Sometimes, the hen can become egg bound or even have an egg break inside of her because of its abnormally large size. Usually, both cases are fatal for the chicken.  Will these double-yolk eggs hatch?  Most likely not.  Some do but usually the chicks do not survive.  Back on the farm, Pop would candle the eggs before letting a hen brood or before placing the eggs in the large incubator.  Candling is a common practice of holding a light (formerly a candle) behind the egg to allow the yolk sac to be seen through the shell.  This eliminated the chance of non fertile eggs or abnormal eggs being placed under the hen.  This was a good way for a farmer to insure that a hen would raise a full brood.  The "bad" or non fertile egg was used in the kitchen and Mama Hen would be assured to have a nice large family with healthy chicks.

  The egg today is just one of many that I have been getting lately. Seeing this one this morning was a reminder of how many we used to gather back on the farm. When you had several hundred chickens laying each day, a double yolk was not that rare.  There were even times when we would find the absurdly large triple yolk one!  Now that was a trip!  Oh, and Son says the cookies are great!

A Few Short of a Dozen

  Most of the time, egg purchases are made by the dozen or sometimes half-dozen.  Nowadays, these come packed in aggravating plastic, foam or cardboard cartons that do little to protect the fragile egg inside.  Back on the farm, Pop kept several hundred chickens to provide eggs for sale.  As kids, we would pick the eggs from the nest, wash them and pack them for the next morning's delivery.  We packed in a lot worse containers than the cartons of today but lost very few eggs to breakage. The eggs' shells were tougher.  Since we had (what is now called) free-range chickens that got a enough nutrients, the shells were practically hard to crack.  Before I started school, I helped Pop deliver the eggs to folks around town. (These were home deliveries that also included fruits, nuts, vegetables and occasionally a quart of milk or dressed chicken.) For most purposes, the eggs were merely packed in brown paper sacks.  I cannot imagine the eggs of today surviving the trip packed into the back of an old Studebaker, much less, being roughly handled by a five-year-old kid toting them to the door.  The eggs (like most everything) were better back then.

  But this is not so much about eggs breaking except that...well, these eggs did not break.  They, too, survived rough handling and did so for a hundred years or more.  Of course, that said, I should explain that I am not talking chicken eggs here but darning eggs.  For years and years, a few darning eggs survived almost weekly use.  Darning eggs are made of blown glass, marble, wood or ceramic.  The egg is slipped inside a sock that needed mending. (Yep, back in the day, you mended clothing...even socks.)  The smooth surface of the egg aided in sewing (darning) the sock.  A hole could be mended almost flawlessly by even the most novice of seamstresses.  The darning eggs were priceless because of their usefulness and handed down from generation to generation as was the art of darning.  That old adage of "Waste not, want not." was heeded well.  It was actually my grandfather who taught me to darn socks.  He was great about teaching life lessons that have come in handy even some fifty years later.

  A funny little tale attached to these darning eggs comes from back when I was just a kid.  To keep the hens laying eggs in desired nests instead of out in the bushes somewhere, occasionally, Pop would snitch one of the darning eggs to put in one of the nest boxes.  Once the hens noticed an egg, they immediately thought the nest was quite nice and would start laying their eggs there.  There were several times when Pop would forget to bring the glass egg back to the house before Mom missed it.  She would be fretting that one of the kids had broken the darning egg when he suddenly would remember his misdeed!   He would retrieve the egg and present it back to Mom with a sheepish grin.  No kid had taken the egg!  She would reprimand him and remind him of the chicken snakes that often visited the nests.  "What if that snake had swallowed my darning egg!!" she would scold!  As a result, Pop resorted to golf balls.  The chickens were none the wiser.

  Now I have the darning eggs.  They sit idle in a dish in the china cabinet.  Some day, perhaps I will attempt to darn socks once again but I am afraid that I have fallen into the "Throwaway Society".  I find it hard to take the time to mend socks but if I ever do, I have the darning eggs to help me!

Nothing to Love

  I see a lot of strange things around here.  I am usually up before most other folks and the world seems all fresh and new but, every now and again, I find thing that sure don't thrill me.  Although I admit that I find all things about nature fascinating, that does not mean that I adore everything I come across in the garden, on the hillside or in the marshes.  A few things almost disgust me!  Take today, for instance, I stumbled across a most interesting formation of little white cups and thought "Here is a thing of beauty!"  It was beautiful.....at least to the eye.  Once I delved into the matter a bit more, my admiration soon turned to repulsion.

  My morning started with the usual picking of Boysenberries.  It is peaceful in the garden at daybreak and this morning was made even more enjoyable by the coolness that had set in after the severe thunderstorm last evening.  The same rains that cooled and cleaned the world, also, turned leaves that were normally cupped downward. One leaf in particular caught my attention. Now that the leave was upended, I could see the beautiful arrangement of tiny white cups.  Why!  The sparkling cups were in a heart arrangement!  I thought this even added to the appeal of the oddity!  I should have known better than to think shining white cups on the bottom of a leaf could ever mean anything other than trouble.

  I did know.  I knew exactly what these things were.  These pretty little egg-shaped cups were exactly that...eggs.  These were EMPTY eggs! Oh, no.  This meant trouble.  You see, even though the critter tried to disguise the fact that she was laying eggs by putting them in a heart shape, this "love nest" was not something I loved.  These were Shield Beetle eggs!  The same Shield Beetle that goes by the better known name of STINKBUG!  Yep, these were the eggs from one of those nasty, foul-smelling, juice-sucking critters that ruin tomatoes, berries, peaches and any number of other crops by sticking that proboscis of theirs in and sucking the thing dry!  They cause more blighted tomatoes than any other critter and I had missed the opportunity to squish dozens of the critters.  The female had done a great job hiding the eggs under the leaf until the storms flipped it over.  Still, it was too late for me to do anything about the possibility of mass destruction of my garden so I sat and admired the beauty from which all of those little beasts hatched!  Love nest....hmmph!  I have no love for stinkbugs!

Serendipity

I spend most (ok, all) of my time right here on the Bayou.  I rarely leave the place which some folks find a bit confusing.  "What do you do for entertainment?" is a question that I get asked all of the time.  To that, I merely answer that there are so many things happening around here that I do not need to seek entertainment..I just have to look outdoors!  This evening late, I was out and about the hillside just "looking".  I was not searching for anything in particular..just observing everything in general.  It is amazing how many things most of us pass by without ever noticing.  My hike lasted a good forty-five minutes or so and took me all around the area.  I was just about to head back in the door when I noticed a miracle happening right beneath my doorstep..the miracle of birth.

A Box Turtle had chosen that exact spot to dig a hole and lay her eggs!  Ok, so this was interesting!  I plopped down on the steps to watch.  Mama Turtle seemed oblivious to my presence and never once stopped digging her hole.  It was sort of fascinating to watch how she could dig such precise hole without seeing it!  Using her back feet to excavate the hole was not an easy job.  She was digging between the roots of a tall oak tree but those tough claws plowed right through the ground!  It took a good thirty minutes or so before she had the hole dug to her satisfaction.  Then the egg laying began in earnest.

Mama turtle filled that hole with at least eight white eggs.  I lost count when the mosquitoes decided to descend upon my face and arms!  I eased off the steps and down to the pier.  There I watched a most beautiful sunset and spectacular moon rise.  Figuring that I had waited long enough for Mama Turtle to finish the job at hand, I wandered back up the board path.  The path would be getting a mite dark and I was without a flashlight!  No need to step on a moccasin!

Slipping back through the front gate and up the steps, I noticed that Mama Turtle was in the process of covering those precious eggs.  This took another thirty minutes or so as she tamped the dirt down really well. Then she was off to hunt for her supper.  I sure hope a raccoon or 'possum does not wander into the Rose Garden tonight and dig up Mama Turtle's eggs.  It would be nice to have some wee turtles around the place!

Box Turtles and sunsets..now you tell me...why do I need to go anywhere else for entertainment?  ~Serendipity..the phenomenon of finding valuable things not sought.~  Yep, just about sums up my feelings about the Bayou!

Another..who knew???

Again, I have to ask..who knew? This time it is about centipedes. I was out working in the yard and turned over a rotted pine log to move it to the burn pile. Before burning anything, I always check it for toads, lizards, mice, etc. since I really do not want to burn them. This time, to my surprise, there was a mother centipede with a whole slew of eggs. She was wrapped tightly around this bundle of eggs as if to protect them. I have never seen this before, as matter of fact, I always assumed that centipedes were like most other bugs that would "lay 'em and leave 'em". This centipede was trying hard to hold onto these eggs so I very gently put the log back down on the ground. Now I know that I will probably regret this as I have been bitten by these vicious little monsters and they HURT! I mean really hurt! I just had the opportunity to rid my yard of about fifty of them at one time and I (stupidly) let them live. Geez, I am a sucker for babies..even baby centipedes!

I came in and decided to research centipede egg-laying just to make sure of what I had just seen. Sure enough, there is one type of the bug that does lay its eggs in rotted logs and she does curl around them to protect them. The mother even licks the eggs to free them from mold spores that would consume them. Such a good mother bug! Anyway..who knew? I did not! At least this log is way down the hill near the marsh and not near my house! Stay away, little bugs, stay away!

Sometimes, it is hard to let go of things from the past. A favorite dish, and old toy, pictures or even memories. This week, I have been cleaning cabinets and I must say, I am rather proud that I have been parting with things. I have several huge boxes of just "stuff" that was cluttering up my house for a number of years. I feel good about the orderly cabinets in my kitchen and have no qualms about parting with these items. One thing, I could not part with this week was not really an item but rather a quirky little action. Something that I (and probably you) did as a kid. Earlier this week, I noticed a dandelion had sprung up right outside my front door. Dandelions, as you well know, are not the most showy flowers. This one caught my eye, though, and I waited with anticipation until this morning! I went out and carefully picked my dandelion. It was gorgeous! I held it high in the air and..poof!..I blew! Seeds floated gently on the breeze like tiny little faeries. I was a kid again..standing there watching my seed faeries dancing on the wind. Sheer bliss. (Unless, of course, anyone saw me. Then I would have to start explaining the smile on my face and start defending my sanity!)