Edna the hen, who would not lay eggs

EDNA THE HEN, WHO WOULD NOT LAY EGGS

Our people in Cornwall have a peculiar way with religion. Most are Methodist by persuasion, but have a real Old Testament way with the Almighty – especially the farming folks. In times of drought we pray for rain. In times of flooding we pray for blue skies. In times of plenty we count our blessings… and feel guilty. In times of lesser fortune, well… we might reckon we deserved it.

Young Walter was given a fine young hen called Edna, a magnificent specimen of Rhode Island Red. She was smart – no doubt about it. And polite. But two months of dedicated care on Walter’s part yielded not an egg. One summer evening, Walter – with Edna under his arm – was loitering with the other youngsters of the hamlet at the fork in the road. A stranger passing through asked his way and remarked at the hen.

“That’s ‘un pretty fine bird.”

“Looks is deceivin’ mister – we ain’t seen ‘un egg outa ‘er.”

“You tried takin’ ‘er to church?”

“We ain’t.”

“Might wanna give ‘er a try.”

Edna fixed the stranger with a hard expression and clucked with approval.

“See – ‘er knows what I on about, “ he said, before sauntering on his way.

Walter was not big on attending chapel, but felt compelled to follow on the advice. On Sunday morning, as soon as the milking was through, he joined his brothers Jack and Ambrose and old Peter to walk down to chapel. Along the way they cadged a lift from the Callaway’s hay wain. Ambrose gestured at Edna who as always was tucked protectively under young Walter’s arm. “Doesna lay. Gonna try the chapel thing with ‘er.” The others nodded knowingly.

The chapel was almost full. As usual, the rear pews were jammed with old men in gaiters with dogs and sticks. That was where Walter attempted to sequester himself until old Peter stood him up and pushed him toward the front.

“’Er’ll ne’er ‘ear from back ‘ere. Up front wi’ ‘ee Master Walter.”

With the eyes of the congregation upon him, Walter carried Edna forward and seated her with him in the frontmost pew, right under the minister’s nose.

The minister blew his nose and began the morning’s proceedings. As usual, it was a stirring oratory that even a hen could not resist. The parable of the talents was what first got Edna’s attention and she winced quite visibly at the tale of the farmer whose uncooperative mule took a blow to the head. During the recital of the Ten Commandments, she mused at “Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother”. When finally, the congregation rose to its feet to recite the Lord’s Prayer, Edna rose to the occasion. With the closing Amen, Edna cackled with triumph and Walter held up a warm, brown egg to the thunderous applause and cheering of the congregation.

As Walter carried Edna proudly from the chapel, the old men in the gaiters with the dogs and the sticks offered him their whiskery smiles of congratulation.

Edna went on to lay eggs prolifically….. just so long as she and young Walter made it to chapel each and every Sunday… though there was a certain minister from St. Mabyn who enraged her so, she could not muster an egg until Wednesday.