So I run into my egg supplier over the weekend. Hey Mr. Noah! I call. He turns, then hurries over.
Hey, my bakery's going to reopen within the week, I say. Sure would like to be able to get a few dozen from you each morning. Everyone knows Mr. Noah has the best eggs around - he collects twice a day from the free-range chickens he keeps on the land behind his house.
Well, Ms. Brin, he replies, shifting his weight between his cowboy-booted feet, I've lost a lot of my flock. We set traps, but so far nothing. Think it may be a wild cat that's gettin' em.
Noah treats his chickens like family. This must be hard for him, and I tell him so.
Yeah, only have four good laying hens right now, he says, but you can buy what we don't use. Until I can get that incubator I've been wanting, anyway. Then you can have all you want.
I thank him, and tell him I hope he can get that incubator soon. I'll help you as soon as I can, I promise him. He grins.
Oh. Did I mention? Mr. Noah is 10 years old. He lives with his father (his mom long since out of the picture) and sells eggs to buy BB guns and have money go to children's church camp in the summer.
Forget buying eggs from Sam's Club. Around here, we know the name of the people who supply many of our staples... I even know the names of some of the cows, chickens and goats who provide me with milk, eggs and cheese. Mr. Noah's one of several folks henrybella's supports by buying local and patronizing hometown people and products. So, to my customers, thanks. Thanks for helping support honest, hard-working people in our small community. -Brin