I feel horribly guilty. Look at the simplistic beauty of these quail eggs. Now they’re gone.
I’ve deprived the bull and rattlesnakes the pleasure of discovering these tasty morsels.
Actually, I made Jeff remove them. I was going to, but he happen to come home at the most opportune time. Finding me in tears, holding a plastic bag and glove, he asked what was wrong.
I led him to the side yard, where moments before I had lifted the metal washtub that blew over weeks ago. I had thought to myself as I was returning from dumping the trash that the overturned tub could easily be a hiding place for a snake.
We have lots of snakes. I know they are part of the circle of life, going about their business as they are genetically programmed to do, keeping rats and other varmints at bay.
I also know they love quail eggs. Must taste like caviar. So, the eggs must go.
I can’t have snakes slithering through my yard because I have puppies that chase anything that moves, including their shadow.
Now I feel horribly guilty. Should I have saved them for breakfast, so at least their brief existence wasn’t in vain? I don’t even know if I can harvest them. Can I?
Later today, as I walk Skylar and Chloe, I’ll turn my head the other way when I pass by the quail couples scurrying about. And, I’ll probably cry. Again.