In a neighborhood close to mine, some folks have chicken in their backyards. They are nice to watch from afar but seem like a lot of work. Reading this little tirade against brunch and the true cost of cheap eggs, brought those chickens to mind that I see sometimes on our walks. The writer has some interesting pipe-dreams about such chickens and the riches they could bring to their owners:
My sillier hope is that, as the end times draw seemingly closer, backyard chicken keepers like me become the supply cornering barons of apocalypse narratives. I imagine myself sitting in a heavily guarded enclave, wearing a feathered cloak and stroking a pekin bantam, receiving supplicants hoping to exchange their treasured possessions (petrol, jewels, cashmere) for a single, precious egg. Finally, my girls would earn their keep and eggs would get their lustre back. Imagine how you’d revere an egg if it was as rare and luxurious as a truffle: imagine how differently you’d view the creature that produced it?
I don't know about elevating the status of eggs to that of truffle but it would be nice not to be view eggs as endless - it makes a person think harder about when and how to eat them. That is a good thing for all concerned including the hen.
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