According to local legend, the egg of Jemeena, who was the oldest elder and the de facto head of the tribe, had been hatched from an egg with a shell that was such a dark purple it was almost black. She was a hundred and seventeen years old and still an extremely sharp and competent leader.
“Will you come and see it?” Therena asked, still bobbing her head excitedly.
“I would be honored to see your egg,” Bobbi said, smiling.
Together, they walked down the curving dirt lane edged with pinkish-white pebbles towards the long, low grass hut which was the communal laying house. To one side were the individual wooden huts where the Orniths lived and to the other side were the vast gardens which fed the entire village.
If there was anything the villagers needed that they couldn’t grow or make themselves, they bartered for it with the few traveling traders—mostly male Orniths—who passed by occasionally.
Their main item of barter were the unfertilized eggs that almost all Ornith females laid weekly. These were gathered, wrapped in grasses, and kept in a cool pit which had been dug in one corner of the laying house. The traders took the large eggs to port cities where they traded them with the very few visitors that came from other planets. Apparently, Ornith eggs were considered a delicacy on other worlds. Just one of them could probably have fed twenty people, Bobbi thought.
They entered the long, low laying house which was warm and stuffy and smelled of hay and dried grass. The reason for that was evident—huge bunches of the stuff were piled in four separate mounds, almost as tall as Bobbi’s head. Three of these had elders sitting on them, brooding fertilized eggs. Their long necks drooped to their chests and their eyes were sleepy or completely closed.
Brooding eggs was restful work since the elders only had to sit there on the nest, making sure the eggs they were tending were kept warm. They sat on them easily since they had backwards-bending knees—or at least, they would have been backwards for a human, Bobbi reflected. It had been startling at first to see their joints bending the “wrong” way, but like everything else in Ornith society, she was used to it now.
The fourth nest didn’t have an elder but it did have a large, oval egg sitting right in the middle of the depression in the center of the straw. Bobbi walked over to it, leaning against the huge mound of straw and standing on tiptoes to get a good look.
“Oh, Therena, the shell is so dark!” she marveled, looking over to her fried. “And it’s really big, too!”
“It was a difficult laying process,” Therena admitted, ducking her head with shy pride. “But it will double in size before the chickling hatches.”
The strange thing about Ornith eggs was that the shells didn’t harden until the second year of gestation. Up until then, they had a stretchy, rubbery consistency that allowed them to expand as the chickling inside grew.
“Shouldn’t someone be sitting on this and brooding it?” Bobbi asked.
Therena shook her head.
“Not for a day and a night. The egg needs time to cure before anyone broods it. And it takes that long for the heat of the laying to dissipate.”
“I see.” Bobbi went back to marveling at the football-sized, dark purple egg. “May I touch it? Or is that not safe?” she asked, looking at her friend.
“It is safe if you are gentle,” Therena said, bobbing her head. “Go on—you may touch it if you wish to.”
Gently, Bobbi put her hand on the side of the newly laid egg. It had a rough, pebbly texture which would expand into a smooth shell as it grew. But she couldn’t touch it for long—it was really hot—like metal that had been warmed in the noonday sun.
“Wow—you weren’t kidding—it really is hot!” she exclaimed, pulling her hand away and shaking her fingers to cool them.
Therena nodded.
“It would burn anyone who tries to brood it right now,” she said. “Once it cures, one of the elders can sit on it and begin the brooding.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I was hoping that maybe Jemeena herself would take a turn brooding it. Because the shell is so very dark. I mean, I know she’s very busy but—”
“I bet she will,” Bobbi said, nodding encouragement to her friend. “It’s a special egg—you can tell just by looking at it. The chickling that hatches from it may even be the next leader of your village! You must be very proud, Therena.”
“I…I am.” The young Ornith bobbed her head. “Not only have I had a successful first mating and laying, but now my breasts will fill with milk and I can help nurse the chicklings.”
Though they were very proprietary of their eggs, once they hatched, the Ornith females didn’t really consider any of the chicklings to be their individual children. Instead, the baby Orniths were cared for by all the women collectively and nursed by every female of child-bearing—or in this case, egg laying—age.
“That will be a blessing to the village,” Bobbi said formally to her friend. “Long may your milk flow to feed the chicklings.”
“Thank you, Bobbi. Thank youuuuu.” The last word ended in a cooing sound which meant that Therena was extremely pleased.
Bobbi smiled to see her friend so happy. Therena was shy and quiet and she had worked hard to secure the young Ornith’s friendship. Not just because she wanted to study her, but because she could tell that Therena would be worth knowing. Her instinct had been correct and Bobbi was certain the two of them would be friends for life, even after her year of living on Avria Pentaura was over and she went back home to Earth to publish her findings on the Ornith society.
“Well, it’s almost time to eat Late Day meal,” Therena said, breaking into her thoughts. “I have some juicy toola roots I have been saving for a special occasion.” She ducked her head. “Would you like to come eat with me tonight? To celebrate?”
“I would love to!” Bobbi exclaimed. “Thank you for inviting me! I have some vogen grain put by that might pair well with your toola roots,” she added. “Shall I bring it?”
She was glad now that she’d traded a few trinkets to the last traveling trader who had come through the village for the rare grain. The Orniths were vegetarians and Ornith society dictated that she must always bring something to add to the meal when she was invited to share food at another hut.
Therena bobbed her head.
“Toola roots and vogen grain—a feast indeed!” she exclaimed. “That sounds delicious. Thank you, Bobbi.”
“Let’s go by my place and get it and then we can head to yours,” Bobbi suggested.
Therena nodded agreement and they were just about to leave the laying hut when the arched doorway was filled by a large, feathery body. And then another and another.
Bobbi stared in dismay as Ornith after Ornith crowded into the laying hut—was the whole village coming in? What was happening?
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked the agitated female beside her—a large Ornith named Murble with bright purple feathers above her eyes. They looked rather like eyebrows and made her look constantly surprised.
“Intruders!” Murble exclaimed, ducking and bobbing her head in agitation. “Intruders from another world!”
“That useless trader, Yerm brought them here!” another Ornith exclaimed. “I saw him with them—he led them to us!”