The cunning plan came to naught, Baldrick. When I returned to The Chookery at the end of the day when Grey Goose had been confined with the eggs, it was to find her doing her darndest to get out of the pen and back into the society of the other geese. I think what is going on is that she is laying in the evenings – we now have had one goose egg laid per day this week – and takes offence at being disturbed during that process; not unreasonably, one might think. A chat with Eddie next door provides the information that the geese have in the past hatched small clutches, but the goslings have tended to die within a few days. It would appear the sensible thing to do, since I haven’t got the equipment to incubate the eggs and raise the goslings artificially, is to harvest the eggs for culinary or barter.
Chooks are laying a bit better now and providing between two and three eggs a day. Colleagues at work appreciate the spare eggs which get distributed there – one colleague reports that half-a-dozen eggs disappear in no time sharp when his boys eat eggy bread for breakfast.