a fertilized egg, once laid, is in a state of suspended animation until it’s incubated. If you collect the egg right away and refrigerate it, the embryo will never develop, and I’ll bet you’d never notice the difference between that egg and an unfertilized one. See what a fertilized vs. unfertilized egg looks like, here. Sometimes you come across a grocery store egg that contains a blood spot. I was told, as a child, that a blood spot indicated a fertilized egg. But that’s not so, according to the American Egg Board. Instead, ” Contrary to popular opinion, these tiny [blood] spots do not indicate a fertilized egg. Rather, they are caused by the rupture of a blood vessel on the yolk surface during formation of the egg or by a similar accident in the wall of the oviduct. Less than 1% of all eggs produced have blood spots. Mass candling methods reveal most eggs with blood spots and those eggs are removed but, even with electronic spotters, it is impossible to catch all of them. As an egg ages, the yolk takes up water from the albumen to dilute the blood spot so, in actuality, a blood spot indicates that the egg is fresh. Both chemically and nutritionally, these eggs are fit to eat. The spot can be removed with the tip of a knife, if you wish.” More than you ever wanted to know about hens, roosters, and eggs (fertilized and not) here. Also, those of you who warned me about the rooster crowing: yeah, he crows. But when he crows in the early morning, he’s in the coop – so that muffles him a little – and he’s on the other end of the house from my bedroom, and I sleep with ear plugs in. So when he went off at 4-something this morning (reported by Fred), I didn’t hear a single thing, and I don’t expect I will. Fred said that he could hear him, but he wasn’t too terribly loud, that the trains that run by a few miles down the road are far louder. I haven’t been woken up by a train in months, so I don’t think the rooster’s going to be an issue for me. Of course, if that changes, you KNOW you’ll be hearing about it.
FYI: Roomba has been ordered, thanks to enabling reader Bridget, who provided me the link to this page. I said “I’m going to order that Roomba.” And then I ordered that Roomba, and then Fred said “How much was the Roomba?” and I said “$212, shaddup.” and he said “The rooster was only ten dollars!” and I said “Your point?” and he said nothing and I said “I’ll get far more pleasure from the Roomba than the rooster.” and he said nothing.
The rooster, I must admit, is kind of entertaining to watch. I was under the impression that roosters are assholes who do nothing but try to get some lovin’, but so far McLovin (we changed his name from Cluck Gable to McLovin, because McLovin makes us giggle) pretty much behaves himself. I mean, there’s been some hanky panky, but for the most part he seems to walk around and stare off into the distance, and dig for food and every once in a while he’ll do a halfhearted mating dance. He really is a pretty chicken, and I look forward to seeing what his babies look like.
So, last week someone asked: Over the years that you’ve been sending cards to blog readers, what is your sent to received ratio? Has it fluctuated from year to year, or steadily increased/decreased? I’ve been keeping track since 2001, and the stats are as follows:
|
Year
|
Sent
|
Received
|
% of return
|
|
2001
|
195
|
63
|
32.3%
|
|
2002
|
331
|
159
|
48%
|
|
2003
|
269
|
130
|
48.3%
|
|
2004
|
327
|
170
|
51.98%
|
|
2005
|
260
|
137
|
52.69%
|
|
2006
|
320
|
153
|
47.8%
|
I covered for the Sunday morning volunteer at the pet store yesterday morning (which is why I was up and posting so early), and I have to say that driving into Huntsville from Smallville on a Sunday morning is WAY better than making the same drive on a Monday morning. I’d driven 20 minutes before I even saw another car! To my dismay, except for Jessikat, all the kittens who were at the pet store last Monday were still there yesterday, including Ellie-Belly and Skittles. Adoptions have been absolutely abysmal lately, damnit, and I hope they pick up! Skittles followed me around and howled to be picked up and loved, so I did plenty of that. When I left the pet store, I went over to Target to do some grocery shopping and pick up a few Christmas items, then stopped at Publix on the way home to buy things I can’t get at Target (Western Bagels and Publix Diet Cola for Fred). When I got home, I thought briefly about driving to Closeville to walk on the walking path, but it was so freakin’ cold (with the windchill, in the 20s) and when I walked on Friday I reinjured my not-completely-healed knee, so I gave myself a Get out of Jail Free card, and spent the day (most of it, except when I had to run to the office supply store, and then stand outside in the freezing-ass cold helping Fred with the chicken coop) inside. Laundry’s done, packages ready to be mailed, house more or less straightened out. And I’m out of here, off to the pet store to do my usual Monday morning thing.
Oh, and before I forget: Miss Stank has recovered from the Stank Virus; over the weekend, Miss Momma had a bout of it, and now I think Spot’s down for the count. We’re treating them with powdered Slippery Elm Bark to help with the nausea and (in Spot’s case) diarrhea, and all we can do is wait it out. Poor kitties.
Newtles sleeps the sleep of the innocent, unaware of the depravity going on just a few feet away. (flickr)
(flickr)
Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Fred leaned down and SNIFFED MEESTER BOOGERS’ ASS AGAIN. 2003: And then we got to stand around while the woman, clearly not the sort who can walk and chew gum at the same time, fumbled with her credit card, NEVER ONCE PAUSING IN HER INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION. 2002: Tell me, for I am clueless when it comes to these things. 2001: Like I said, if you’re going to mix lights, go all the way, people. 2000: No entry.]]>
You have probably seen this before but when I saw it I thought of you and wanted to pass it along.
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/63827/the_jingle_cats_white_christmas/
I like that you call your happy orange kitty Newtles but when you actually say it, it sounds like Noodles. I always thought Noodles would be a good kitty name.
“2004: Fred leaned down and SNIFFED MEESTER BOOGERS’ ASS AGAIN.”
Funniest previous entry listing EVAH.
Oh, and I sent you a card, but I didn’t so much ‘create it’ as I ‘Bought it and wrote something stupid on the inside of it and then sent it to you”.
Which is totally like creating if you’re willing to broaden the sense of the word.
Also, I created the world and the internet.
You’re welcome.
Another egg question: Does the yolk become the chick or is the yolk food for the chick (like a placenta?).
Nicole, the yolk is food for the chick, all the food it gets while in the egg. That’s why it’s so dense energy-wise (ie, high in fat and calories).
Nicole: The yolk is just food. When chicks are born, they still have a yolk sac attached. That will feed them for about 72 hours, and is why it’s possible for newly hatched chicks to be shipped through the mail.
I predict that the first time you crack open your breakfast egg and a half formed chick falls out, you will rethink the whole ‘raisin’ the babies’ part of chicken life. Been there, hated it, gave away the rooster.
I used to have chickens, loved the hens. But then we had a rooster, quite by accident (we bought a dozen chicks that were “guaranteed” all pullets — hah!) and he turned out to be the most aggressive,
most protective, meanest-tempered rooster who ever walked. Every time I went to collect eggs, Henry
(who had been supposed to be Henrietta until events proved otherwise) attacked my knees. I began
wearing knee-pads over my jeans when I went out there. But then, Henry flew at a visiting child and
I managed to grab the kid and hold him up out of range just in time to avoid possible tragedy. It seems roosters can fly up to attack anything at the level of a preschooler’s eyes.
So, we gave Henry away to a couple who hadn’t raised him and didn’t know him and so had no hesitations about turning him into fricassee. I heard he was very good.
The hens never missed him, fickle wenches that they were.
McLovin is Gay.
Heya Robyn, when preparing for all of this online selling/shipping, I signed up with the USPS carrier pick-up service. I was extremely leery, but I’ll be damned, my carrier picked up my outgoing packages when he dropped off my mail, just as scheduled, and voila! No post office trip required! I love this because I do not like going to the post office one tiny bit (except when it’s empty, which it rarely is). I guess you have to go to check your PO box, right? But if you ever want to skip carrying your boxes to the PO, try the carrier pick-up. You can schedule it online up to 2AM the day of pick-up.
Roosters don’t crow just in the mornings. They crow all day. But when I was around rooster, I didn’t find the sound annoying at all. Then again, I wasn’t trying to sleep.
They are very cute with their hens though, and make a special sort of sound that says “come over here, I found food!” that brings the whole family running.
What Contrary said. Anyone who hasn’t read it seriously needs to click on the 2004 entry for today. Dear God, I laughed like a loon at that.
Maybe I’m missing something… BUT…. If you want a fertilized egg to develop, how do you know it is fertilized and how do you keep it separate from future eggs? I just can imagine how an “old” egg might get mixed up with the ones from the present morning and you accidentally crack open either a partially developed chick or an extremely stinky unfertilized older egg….
My mind boggles….
I love the pictures of the newest edition! He is a pretty boy!
Thanks for the info, Fred and Cat 🙂
Okay, I had to see what all the excitement was about in 2004. Laughed hysterically! Have you seen this?
http://www.amazon.com/Cat-Butts-True-Lovers-Blue/dp/0762422173/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1197939536&sr=8-1
Back in the early 90’s my mom and dad bought some property in a more rural area. There was a rooster that lived next door. One day while my dad and I were hanging out on the back deck, I mentioned the tranquil sound of the country when the rooster next door cockadoodledoos.
“Do you know why roosters crow?” asked my dad.
“Why no …no I dont” I said after a ponderous moment.
“Well roosters crow when they get some chicken lovin” said my dad matter-of-factly.
Well that little bit information stayed with me and for the following 10 years, every time someone would visit the house and I happened to be there and the rooster happened to crow …I shared that little bit of learned rooster information. Sure I got a few odd looks but ..my dad told me after all …and he knows everything.
Just before my dad passed away …I was sitting on his bed chatting with him. It was a warm August day and of course Rooster McRoosterson was cockadoodledooing – not sure if it was the same rooster but it was a rooster nonetheless. A lot of reflecting had been going on over the previous weeks and that day was no different.
“That rooster next door is sure a busy boy today” I said.
“Why do you say that?” said my Dad.
“Well all the crowing is because he is gettin his chicken lovin” I said
If my dad had not been on his death bed …he would have been on the floor dying of laughter.
yeah …so dont always believe what your dad tells you.
Poor Tommy. Does he ever get a moment of peace to himself or is Miss Stank the eternal companion?
I can’t wait to hear how the roomba works out. I want one of them thangs sooooooo bad. My fantasy is that I can put it on when I leave for work and just have it vacuum ALL DAY while I’m gone, sucking up every single bit of dog hair and cat hair. Also, I would love to see my cats freaking out while this little robot vacuum cleaner works busily. I wonder if the cats will stalk it or just hide.