Thank you Egg Frittata

A Thank you from the Shorts
 

You may remember the chickens and blue barn that I wrote about a while back. 

Apparently,  my neighbors at the end of the street found inspiration in the introduction of chickens in the general vicinity to "adopt" (as they say) a few chickens of their own.  For the sake of this entry and their privacy, we shall call them Mr. and Mrs. Short.

 Mrs. Short is a wonderful cook whose delicacies delight us all.  She  has maintained that the adoption was necessary because she was desirous of the fresh eggs for cooking.  Mr. Short  is a man in business who drives a pristine, not-to-be touched black Mercedes sedan - but more on the car later.

Yesterday morning just after first light, Puppy Weston and I were heading out for our usual morning walk up the street and to the field when we saw both of the Short's vehicles parked askew and crazily in the street. 

At first glance it was clear that something was amiss.  This was supported when we saw Mrs. Short clad in something red, plaid and flannel with a raincoat running around and tossing a blanket on the ground.  We were just thinking about turning around and pretending that we saw nothing, when Mr. Short jumped out a bush and yelled,

"One of the chickens has escaped!"

Well that just explained everything.  Puppy Weston was immediately tied to a tree and I joined in the chase.  More neighbors came out as alerted by Puppy Weston's alarm barking - one in her bare feet!  We ran about, some of us vainly clucking or calling out Cleopatra, the chicken's name.  Diabolically, we were easily outsmarted by the feathered fiend.

Finally, I thought to call Mom.  As you may recall, as children we had adopted our own chickens at the end of  a school project.  Sadly, we were not the most responsible children and our chickens often got away and a chicken catcher was purchased.

My mother is a early riser and did not think that it was unusual that I called.  What she did think odd and even stated so was the question:

"Do you still have the chicken catcher?"

Once apprised of the desperate situation, however,  she drove the chicken catcher over.  By that time Cleopatra had had enough of us humans and had hidden under a boxwood hedge. 

Mom held up the chicken catcher and this was gleefully taken by the E.'s grandson who crawled under the shrubbery and hooked the errant Cleopatra.  Success!

Mrs. Short was overcome and the rest of us were cheering.  Mr. Short commandeered the situation and put Cleopatra in his car.  The last we saw of Cleopatra she was sitting in the back window of Mr. Short's Mercedes as he drove her home.

Really, really early this morning there was a knock on the door.  It was Mr. and Mrs. Short with some fresh eggs as a thank you gift for the adventure yesterday.

I love eggs and often make a quick (microwave) frittata in the morning.  Today it was a spinach one with the "Thank you Egg."

Look at the beautiful color of a fresh egg!

Breakfast!

P.S.  Mom gave Mr. Short the chicken catcher.