Donald and the rooster egg

Toni wanted me to tell the story about Donald and the rooster egg.

It was a late summer day and the sun had gone down. The chickens found their nests in the pen and went to roost. My mother was in the kitchen which was lit by a kerosene lamp. You could see her in the stove washing dishes in a pot of hot water, doing her wifely chores after milking cows. John, Donald and I were playing out in the yard, which was just a lot of wood chips and chicken droppings! There happened to be one big white thing in the dirt. John told Donald, "That's a new rooster egg." Donald said, "Uh-uh, roosters don't lay eggs." We both egged him on and we said, "See if it is! Taste it!" He bit in to find it wasn't an egg after all - it was rooster shit! (Roosters would lay big white piles) Donald ran in the house crying, "Ma! Ma!" He was embarrassed that he bit into a piece of chicken shit. Ma just said something like, "Live and learn." And we were dying laughing, teasing him. He never forgave us for that. And that was Donald's education as far as chicken shit is concerned.