I could easily have stepped on it, but instead I looked down and saw the small blue egg in the grass under the big maple tree, then I looked up into the branches of the tree, as if I would see the nest in the high thick branches.
I’ve never held such a small whole egg in my hand before. It seemed perfect to me. The shell was hard and silky, and it had a weight to it, a density so different from a chicken egg.
I wanted to put it back in the nest, I wanted the mother bird to come down and bring it back to the nest herself, I wanted to hatch it.
Not knowing what to do with it, but wanting to protect it from the dogs stepping it, I put it in the planter next to my studio door for safe keeping.
When I came out for lunch a couple of hours later, the egg was gone. Then I saw it, crushed in the grass, whatever was inside of it was gone.
I’m guessing it was Bud who ate the egg. It’s not something Fate would be interested in. It made me sad when I first saw it, but I imagine if he didn’t eat it, it would have just rotted away eventually, anyway.
Nature does have her way of dealing with such things.