The eggs are gone from the grocery store. The egg fridge shut down after non-stop egg stocking for days.
No, you can't buy the cartons collected from the broken fridge.
You come here because of the labels. The labels don't tell.
That the male chicks, who can't lay eggs, were killed after hatching.
That the hens lose their calcium to all the eggs they must lay. That hens can get osteoporosis too. That they usually do.
That the workers severed the beaks of their new birds, trying to prevent pecking. That one of the hens who laid your free-range eggs fell victim to stress-induced cannibalism anyway.
Have you told the kids?
Have you told the kids about the chickens' untamed ancestors? Some still live on Earth. Your kids should know. Tell them soon. Red jungle fowl face extinction because of interbreeding with domesticated chickens at the edges of their forests.
I remember, as a kid, dyeing my eggs. My mother loved this day.
The mechanic is on the way and will lie on the floor for hours under the fridge, moving wires. It's Easter Sunday.
Rise in power, red jungle fowl.
Image: George Edward Lodge, 1921 [Public domain]