On Our Way to Back From Solvang
Daniel pulls into a dirt parking lot off the highway into
an Ostrich farm. The sign reads:
4 dollars for adults
1 additional dollar to feed.
I step in, Daniel pulls
his sunglasses over his head, and we
look down at our left. In a freezer that typically holds
ice cream bars and popsicle sticks,
displays and preserves frozen Ostrich meat.
I point. Daniel nods.
We both keep quiet. The lady
behind the counter wears a bright blue apron
which brings out the white in her hair and the red in her lipstick.
Putting my elbows on the counter I say
“Hello. Two to see the Ostriches. Please.”
She wipes her hands before punching numbers into the register.
“Would you like to feed them? It’s a lot of fun.”
Sensing my hesitation Daniel volunteers:
“Sure. That would be nice.”
She punches some more numbers and comments:
“You can buy an Ostrich egg. I just cleaned one out right now.”
And it was true. In front of me is an egg
at least 5 times bigger than the ones we eat.
The shell is dented with craters and glazed over like plastic.
Blobs of yoke are smeared on the napkin and the lady’s apron.
“No, thank you.”
She gives us the feed and warns us:
“Hold the plate tightly. They try to snatch it.”
We smile and thank her for her guidance.
As Daniel walks out the door, she says,
“Have fun. We have Emus too.”
Daniel and I walk out firmly gripping our plates.
