When I found no eggs a few days before Christmas, I thought nothing about it.
The egg production had dropped to one every other day. Days were short, skies were gray, the air was cold. Who could blame the chickens for taking a holiday?
But when a few days stretched to two weeks, I began to wonder: where are the eggs?
I think I have an egg thief. I do not know if it's feathered or furry or scaly, but I intend to find out.
I'm going to watch a sitting hen and wait for her to lay an egg and observe what happens.
At 8 o'clock this morning, I tiptoed to the hen house. Three hens and a rooster were standing around, gossiping, pecking at their food. No hens were in the nesting boxes.
I returned at 9 o'clock. A lone hen was pecking at food. Again, no hens in the nesting boxes.
I had to go to work.
Sleuthing -- and omelets-- will have to wait for another day.