He no longer lived at his boyhood home, but now he was visiting his mother on a Sunday afternoon which explained why he was wearing his ‘dress’ clothes.  She lived in the country and in her earlier life had been a farmer’s wife which explained why she still maintained her small flock of chickens. 
It was late in the afternoon and as he was preparing to leave for the day, his mother asked if he would take care of a little chore, collecting the eggs in the chicken pen.  
Of course he agreed and immediately left the home but unprepared for the task.  The task was not one unfamiliar, but it had been some time since this was one of his assignments.
It was getting dark by this time and by then the chickens had checked in for the night, roosting. This made his task easier since the nests were nearly all empty except for a hen of two who insisted on following their maternal nesting instincts, ‘sitting’ on the fruits of their labor.  He gently opened the door so as not to scare the occupants and quietly began his familiar routine of collecting the eggs laid during the day.  But there was a problem.
 He had forgotten to take the basket to be used for the collected eggs.  But it was getting late and he had things to do at his home so he decided that since the number of eggs would probably be limited he assumed he could handle them without a basket, holding them in his hands and arms.  This was another eggstreme mistake.
 He cautiously began his assignment going from one nest to another until he came upon one of the non-roosting mother hens who resented being bothered by this unknown and let him know of her displeasure by a violent fluttering of her wings and a squawk that caused alarm from the other occupants.  It also caused this egg collecting intruder to reflectively jump back from her nest thereby causing a ripple effect on the other frightened chickens who joined in the chorus of protest.  The attempt to go about the job quietly came to an end abruptly. 
During the melee the son doing the good deed dropped one of the eggs that he had cradled in his arms and bent over to recover the bounty when awkwardly he lost his balance and the entire thin shelled collection fell to the ground, now unshelled.  Then all bedlam broke loose.
 By now the chickens were scattered throughout the coop and as is their nature, when they discovered that a number of eggs had been broken, they decided to make a feast of it. Then competitive pecking began and since some of the broken eggs had fallen on his feet, they became fair game in the mad rush to be the first chicken to take advantage of the accident.
It took a while before the chickens settled down and even longer for the task of taking care of the accident and explaining to his mother why there were no eggs this night.
One of my boyhood chores also was collecting the egg production.  I did not have such an experience, but I did on several occasions have to dispatch a snake from the nest who wanted his share of the production.
 Growing up in the country did have its moments to remember.
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Bill Lee, PO Box 128,
Hamer, SC 29547