The auction is a gift that keeps on giving.
Hick loves shopping at the auction several times a week, and giving gifts that keep people working. And by "people," I mean his own family members. Last night, he bought a new egg basket for The Pony. Now The Pony can put all his eggs in one basket. Heh, heh! See what I did there? Put all his eggs in one basket! I crack myself up sometimes. Actually, The Pony can't put all his eggs in one basket, because the tiny eggs that I think are reptile eggs but Hick says are just itty bitty chicken eggs in spite of their leathery shell would simply fall out of this new basket. And so would the banty eggs. You know. The ones my mom really likes, according to Hick.
The Pony has been collecting eggs in an old Easter basket since we first got chickens. Guess where the chickens came from. You got it! The auction! Those first feathered friends were leghorns, and they sure were layers. Then Hick bought a crate with a Typhoid Clucker. He said he heard one cough, but he didn't think anything of it, and turned the new chickens in with the old chickens, and decimated the flock. Poor Pony was on deathwatch that summer. Every day, he found a fowl corpse. Those leghorns were not hardy enough, I suppose. Now we have pretty, pretty Ameraucaunas who lay colored eggs, and ugly, ugly turkens who are butt-ugly but quite prolific. They are both a sturdy lot who only succumb to being eaten by predators.
Don't tell The Pony, but his new egg basket is really made for golf balls. But it's good enough to carry eggs. The Easter basket was on its last legs. The bottom was held in by several bread twist ties. And for a dollar, you can't go wrong buying a golf ball pail to carry eggs.
Though I would draw the line at trying to fill it with Diet Coke.