For the last three weeks, our hens have been laying nonexistant eggs. They sit there every morning, clucking their „don’t disturb me I have to concentrate“ clucks, with the same look in their eyes as we have when we sit – somewhere else. I have seen these mysterious eggs lying in the straw between the hens. But by the time I do my egg-collecting tour, they’re all gone.
When the Sleuth Five got wind of this, they swiftly interrogated anybody with either hens or a solid knowledge of the habits of the local fauna. A rat? No rats in our garden. Plenty of mice, though, but they are so tiny they would need to team up in threes to carry away an egg. Squirrels might eat bird’s eggs, but who ever saw a squirrel with a backpack? A badger, porcupine or anything similar? Would have to lie very low in our dog-friendly neighbourhood. A crow? They get their share of eggs, but they don’t bother to clean up the shells. A snake? Once – yes. But three to five eggs a day, for 21 consecutive days? Show me that snake….
No pawprints, no hair tufts, no skittish hens. No eggshells, yolk blobs or sticky white drips. To be honest, the Sleuth Five were clueless for almost three weeks. But today, something began to dawn on us. Since when does the fence to our neighbour’s yard have a large, neatly cut hole? When did the chickens learn to open the gate? Why does the alarm go off around noon so often – and only then?
And yes, the Sleuth Five are very aware that true Waldorf detectives would have felted an egg and embroidered the message onto it….