Grandpa's Egg

Granpa's Egg

Merrah’s grandpa called from the back porch. “Merrah come and see what I found.”

When Merrah opened the screen door she saw her grandpa sitting in the sun of the late afternoon gazing down at something in his old garden hat. Looking up her grandpa scooted over to make room on the bench that stood outside the back door. He smiled at her and held out the hat.

There nestled in a bed of fresh grass was a large egg. It did not look like the kind of eggs that the hens laid. It was a soft yellow with swirls of blue and green. It looked more like an Easter egg then an egg that would be found on a warm summer’s day under the lettuce. Merrah reached out her finger to softly caress grandpa’s find when a loud crack came from the hat.

Merrah and her grandpa watched with anticipation as a crack appeared on the smooth surface. Grandpa spoke softly, “Merrah watch what happens next but don’t touch it. Ok?”

Nodding, she held her breath as a hole grew. Merrah wanted to help the poor baby struggling to get out into the warm sunshine. She knew that her grandpa would not let her help. He had told her one day when she was watching chicks hatch that if she helped by breaking the egg open the chicks would not be strong enough to live. He said that the chick needed the struggle in order to grow strong.

They watched for a long time as the shell fell into the grass. Merrah had been right, it wasn’t a chick. It wasn’t a bird. At least Merrah didn’t think that it was a bird. It was looked more like a kitten or a puppy. Yet it didn’t quite look like a kitten or a pup.

Merrah looked at grandpa with wide eyes, “Grandpa, what is that?”

Grandpa shook his head as he watched the little creature starting to dry and become fluffier by the minute. It raised it’s tiny head and blinked bright green eyes. It’s eyes focused on Merrah and it struggled to more closer toward her.

“Can I pick it up grandpa?” Merrah asked as she stroked her finger gently over the little head.

“Carefully,” grandpa said. “I don’t know what may happen. It’s so tiny but little rattler’s can still give a nasty bite.”

Ever so gently she raised the baby to eye level. “Can you hear that?” She wanted to know if she was the only one that could hear the soft thrumming sound.

From the shadows of the barn a lager version of the baby ran out. It was about the size of a pony. Hissing like an angry goose it charged into the yard. Grandpa pulled the baby from Merrah’s hand and set it on the ground. He and Merrah watched from behind the screen door.

Lifting the baby by the scruff the creature flew away. Screeching, she disappeared into the setting sun.