The Black Egg
Before the day the black egg came to us, we’d been getting only 3 eggs per day, all white, from our 4 ducks. This was all as expected. Both our khaki campbells and our runner ducks were supposed to give us white eggs. Other breeds of duck can produce other colors – brown or even blue/green. But not ours. Our heavy producing breeds are supposed to produce white.
As excited as I was about our egg production so far, I have to admit that I was just a tiny bit annoyed that we hadn’t gotten to the 4 eggs per day level yet. I knew that one duck was slacking off, almost pushing me to the point of buying supermarket eggs on one occasion. Really, I’d planned for close to 5 eggs per day when I started this enterprise by buying 5 ducklings, but our loss of Megatooth early on had doomed us to a maximum of 4 eggs per day. So we learned what I’m sure must be a common lesson among new poultry owners – get an extra bird or two because you never know when you’ll lose one.
With all this information stored in my brain, you can imagine my surprise on the Morning of the Black Egg (I’m thinking of starting a push to have this day declared a National Holiday). When I peeked inside the duck house, I actually thought we had 3 white eggs and one rock. Or maybe a big duck poop. Good thing I fished around a little with my hands to investigate.
None of us really know what to think. Why black? Was this some sort of aesthetic statement, or maybe a reflection of the mood of the duck? (Is there such a thing as ducky Prozac?) And which of these birds made it – can you guess?
I can’t really guarantee that I know, but I have my suspicions.
And the big question seems to be – “How did it taste?”
It tasted exactly the same as the others.