I haven’t eaten eggs for a while because really, per mouthful, there’s as much misery in an egg laid by a battery hen as there is in a slab of steak fresh from an Indonesian abbatoir. And I don’t really trust the free range branded ones either. Sure they might get to run around in a yard for a few hours a day but they still have their beaks cut off. And the website does say that they cut their beaks off when they are chicks so the nerves aren’t as sensitive so it doesn’t hurt them. But, hmmmmm.
I’m hoping to go to the farmers markets tomorrow and talk to the Happy Hen man to find out just how happy his hens are and if they’re still wearing their beaks. I did have some eggs about a month ago. A friend I met at TAFE gave me half a dozen and they really did come from happy hens. Her hens run around all day in the paddock with the horses then sleep on her daughters bed at night. Her daughter dresses them up as well. I’m not sure how happy they are about that part. It was funny because I hadn’t had an egg for so long that it kind of upset my stomach when I had one. Rich little suckers they are.
So I’ve had Daz on a mission to find some real eggs for me. He’s driving around the countryside all the time so I told him to be on the look out for signs in driveways saying eggs for sale. And he found some!! But he knows I won’t eat them unless he goes in and inspects the hens and can see for himself that they are happy and fully beaked. This woman probably thought he was doing under cover investigations of some sort. But yes they have their beaks, and yes they just run around the farm all day, and yes when you buy a dozen eggs they come with feathers and shit on them and they’re all different sizes. Because I always find that a litle disturbing, when you open a carton of eggs and they’re all exactly the same size. Like clones.
And she only charges $4.00 a dozen. I couldn’t believe it. I pay $6.00 per dozen for the best free range option I can get at the supermarket. (I still buy eggs for Daz and Kimba, they have been very good about the lack of meat but they draw the line at giving up eggs).
So did you get some – I said!! Did you get some for Lloyd??
Well no – he said. Because there aren’t any hens at the moment.
The quolls killed them all.
I couldn’t believe it. Just when I thought I might be having an egg on toast the bloody quolls killed all the happy hens. Not so happy anymore. And they don’t eat them, they just rip them to pieces.
But she showed him her new little chicks that will one day lay me some lovely free range, shit covered, odd sized eggs. I hope she’s fixed her fences.
Oh, quolls, they’re a little Australian marsupial. A carnivore marsupial.