Butterscotch’s day began like any other day. To her right she could see her three sisters and to her left, Ginger. She blinked her eyes and stretched her right wing and leg, fluffled her feathers, stretched out her left wing and leg, and then fluffled her feathers again. Butterscotch was first to wake every morning and she liked the quiet before all the egg-laying “BER-GURKING” began. The only other creature awake in the chicken coop was the Rat, who scuttled away at the sight of Butterscotch’s morning yoga routine.
Soon the coop was fully awake. Chickens helped themselves to the seed and water feeders, made dust baths and chattered about the usual stuff. “The black seeds are my favourite.” “Oh, they’re lovely, but you can’t beat those little orange ones.” “I’ve found a worm! I mean, nothing to see here. Mmmm, yum! Um, I mean, wouldn’t it be lovely to find a worm.” “This sand is so warm and dry. I love how it feels in between my feathers.” Butterscotch had made a nice, deep bath for herself in the far corner of the coop. She was daydreaming about chasing bugs across the lawn when she jumped up with a start. The gentle chattering around the coop had made her doze off, but for how long? And where was all the “BER-GURKING”?
Butterscotch made her way over to the nesting boxes. Only two eggs! This couldn’t be right? She looked around the coop. All the other chickens were already in the orchard. How long had she slept? The sun was above the trees, but not yet high in the sky. By now, there were usually lots of eggs in the nesting boxes. Where are all the other eggs? This looked like a job for Butterscotch, Private Investigator!
The first suspect was the Rat. He scuttled a lot, and if he wasn’t scuttling he was lurking. Guilty animals need to lurk in shadows waiting for an opportunity to scuttle away with eggs. And if a young Private Investigator were to wake early she would find the lurker scuttling away, as she had this morning.
Butterscotch shuffled backwards from the nesting box to the hole in the side of the coop that the Rat had scuttled through.
“What you doing Butterscotch?” asked Chocolate.
“I’m scuttling backwards.”
“Oh,” said Chocolate and took a sip from the water feeder. Chocolate took another sip, then looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Why? Why are you scuttling backwards?”
“Because there are only two eggs.”
“Well an egg would never fit through that hole,” said Chocolate. Butterscotch welcomed Chocolate’s offer to help. Four feet were better than two, and the extra scuttling had proved that the Rat could not have got the eggs through hole in the wall.
“There is a long list of potential egg thieves,” said Butterscotch, Private Investigator. “To solve this case we will need to use the process of elimination. The Rat couldn’t have done it. The next on my list of suspects are Donald and Daisy Duck.”
Donald and Daisy were regular visitors. At first they would only land on the lawn, but over time they just became part of the flock. They would even waddle all the way into the coop and help themselves to seeds. That’s what they were doing now as Butterscotch, Private Investigator, and her faithful assistant Chocolate watched them from behind an apricot tree.
“They could easily carry an egg each on those big flipping feet of theirs,” whispered Chocolate.
“That would explain the funny way they walk. As soon as they come out of the coop let’s scare them. If they have eggs hidden on their feet we will soon know about it.”
The two young detectives did such a good job of scaring the ducks that they crashed into each other as they took off. Any stolen eggs would have been scrambled in the mid air collision. There was nothing but a few feathers and the loud quacking of two very startled ducks.
“A plan well executed Chocolate, and two more suspects eliminated from the case.”
“Who’s next?” asked Chocolate.
Pea-Hen had been spending a lot of time clucking over a little native pigeon who seemed to enjoy the attention. He was always fanning his feathers and cooing back at Pea Hen.
“I don’t like it,” said Butterscotch, Private Investigator. “I’m not convinced that his intentions are good. Maybe he is using Pea-Hen to get to the eggs.”
Pea Hen is a big chicken. One day a half-eaten sandwich had fallen out from her feathers after a dust bath. There were definitely enough feathers there to conceal an egg or two.
“There’s nothing a male pigeon wants more than as a nest full of eggs. And if his nest had the biggest eggs, I’m sure that pigeon would be quick to tell the other pigeons all about it.”
Convincing Pea-Hen to go into one of the nesting boxes was easy. “Hey Pea Hen, look in there. Yeah, that one. That’s right. All the way in.” All that Butterscotch, Private Investigator, and her faithful assistant Chocolate could see was one very large and fluffy bum. Things got caught up in those fluffy feathers all the time and the other chickens often found welcome surprises. It could be possible that the pigeon had found an egg one day and had convinced Pea Hen to shake her tail feathers for him in the hope to get more eggs. But the struggle that it took for Pea Hen to get all the way in the nest and then turn around get herself out of the nest made it clear to Butterscotch, Private Investigator, that more stuff was likely to be left behind than to be brought out of the nest.
“Fwwaaarrrk!”
“Hey, mind the language Tony! There’s youngsters around,” said Miracle sternly to a big black crow perched on the roof of the coop. There were youngsters around. Two young sleuths listening to every word the potty-mouthed bird was saying.
“Mind your own business, you cranky old boiler. I get enough attitude at home. The little ones won’t stop going on about how hungry they are. Maybe I should come done there and grab a bit of leathery, bitter old chook for dinner.”
“I’d like to see you try!”
“That guy is taking our eggs for sure,” said Chocolate. “How are we going to prove it?”
“We need to clear everyone out the coop. He won’t go near the nests if he thinks someone can see him.”
Chocolate was very convincing at spotting bugs that weren’t there. She had everyone following her around the orchard while Butterscotch, Private Investigator, kept an eye on Tony the Crow.
He’d flown done and hopped straight into the coop. Butterscotch, Private Investigator, snuck in behind him. This was it. She was about to catch the egg thief in the act. Tony’s tail was backing out of one the nests.
“Put down the egg and no-one gets hurt.”
“Fwwaaarrrk! You sneaky little…”
Tony didn’t finish his thought. First Chocolate, followed by Lamington and Licorice and then the rest of the flock attacked him. Last of all came Miracle. She crashed through the flapping fury of fired up fowl and hit Tony with a hip-and-shoulder that sent the crow clear across the coop, jamming his head into the Rat hole.
Another case solved by Butterscotch, Private Investigator. Tony the Crow never stole another chicken egg. He never spoke badly to any of the chickens either.
Butterscotch, settled down on the roost. To her right, Ginger was doing some final preening. To her left, her three sisters were arguing over who had to sleep against the side of the coop. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of catching bugs on the lawn.