There is a definitive answer is this case. They call that starting with the end in mind.
When I said I didn’t have a good story to tell yesterday, I was just too tired to remember. See, I was sitting out in the Florida room yesterday morning, having a cup of coffee and reading the Sunday paper, which is just about my favorite thing to do on Sunday morning. I’d mowed the grass yesterday, which really wore me out, and I looked outside to admire my handiwork,
I mean the mowing really kicked my butt. I had to take a break between the front and back yards, and when I’m healthy, I never have to stop. But still on the back side of this cold, I had to rest and drink a Gatorade and cool off before I could tackle the 2nd half.
Anyway, I looked outside at my nicely-mowed grass, and I saw what I thought was a golf ball in the middle of the yard. Or maybe it was a mushroom. We’ve had a lot of those with the recent rain and warm, humid conditions.
All I could think was “how did a golf ball get into the yard?” I knew it wasn’t there when I mowed the day before.
So, I got up, went outside, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a
Yes, a brand new, unbroken, un-hard-boiled chicken egg in the middle of my yard.
“How would an intact chicken egg come to be in the middle of the yard”, you might ask.
Well, the people two houses down has a pet laying hen. Yep, we have a free-range chicken in the neighborhood.
All I can surmise is that Blackie (yes, the chicken has a name) strutted down from her home, “flew” over my back fence, laid an egg, flew back over the fence and stalked home.
Now, there are several cats in the neighborhood. Several times I’ve seen Blackie out, scratching at the front yard right in front of this 15 pound gray cat. The cat just ignores the chicken, and vice versa. It seems that Blackie has pecked the crap out of the cats in previous encounters, and the cats have learned to leave well enough alone. So this laying hen has established herself as the alpha critter in the neighborhood.
I guess I just thought this was a little higher-class neighborhood than to have a free-range chicken ruling the roost, so to speak. I know I live on the Westside (of the Beach), but seriously. And I know chickens are everywhere in Key West, and in the Islands … places I really love. But I’m not used to a chicken in the neighborhood. We didn’t have chickens roaming around in beautiful downtown Bedford, and I’m sure there’s probably an ordinance against having livestock in a residential neighborhood. But, I’m not about to turn them in. I just hope the next time there’s an egg in the yard I don’t run over it with the mower …
How do you stop a rooster from crowing on Sunday?
Eat him on Saturday!