Sam Drake, P.I., The Poultry Super Sleuth
The Adventures of Sam Drake, P.I. ...
The Case of the
Missing Eggs
"And when did you first discover your eggs were missing, Mrs. Duck?" Sam Drake, Private Investigator, leaned forward awaiting her response.
"Oh...I'm really not sure of the exact moment. I...Oh...I'm so embarrassed! You must think I'm a very poor mother, but please remember that we ducks lay very early in the morning, often before daylight. It must have been," Mrs. Duck continued, "sometime early this morning."
Sam grimaced. Some ducks were just a little daffy, a little out of it so to speak.
"Well, how did you discover that they were gone?", Sam inquired.
"How?? Oh, this morning I went to my nestbox to lay as usual, but when I got to the door where I could seen inside, why, there were no eggs to be seen. ALL gone! Alas! Woe is me...all of that hard work for naught." Mrs. Duck sniffled quietly, tears dripping from the end of her bill.
Sam hated for females to cry in front of him. It was his one unadmitted weakness.
"Come now, Mrs. Duck, I dare say that you're not to blame. This looks like the work of a raccoon that moved in across the creek and through the woods, so my street sources tell me. A detective must keep his ear to the ground at times like these."
"I know a mammal, Old Jim, who has a live trap. I'll give him a call and engage him to trap the vile raccoon and remove him. There will be additional expenses for engaging him, of course, but I'll try to keep them to a minimum.", Sam assured Mrs. Duck.
"Oh Anything! Anything to make my egg laying secure.", quailed Mrs. Duck. "It's so dreadful to lose all of your work before anything has a chance to come of it."
Old Jim got up from his computer where he was posting a message to the DOM_BIRD list, walked to the phone, and spoke, "Hello?", half expecting some telemarketer to inform him that, once again, he had won something fabulous.
"Old Jim, this is Sam Drake, Private Investigator. Got a minute?"
"Sure," said Old Jim, "I know of your reputation and work. I'm always glad to help the veritable Sherlock Holmes of the poultry world. What can I do for you?"
Sam explained the case of the missing eggs and asked Old Jim's services in trapping the likely culprit, that villainous, that unscrupulous raccoon. An agreement was made to trap for a week, cash in advance.
A week passed. Sam's phone rang early in the morning. "Sam, Old Jim here. I haven't been able to trap anything except three cats, and one of them twice. This neighborhood has some dumb cats, but no raccoon. Do you wish to continue my services?"
"No," Sam replied, "I'll have to try some other option. Thanks for your help."
Sam returned to see Mrs. Duck with a gnawing suspicion in the back of his mind that he had been wrong, jumped the gun as it were.
"Mrs. Duck, my first efforts have not borne fruit. Perhaps it would be helpful if you and I returned to the scene of the crime and tried to reconstruct what occurred. I have another case to deal with this afternoon. Could I see you tomorrow morning, near daybreak, at your normal laying time? Say we meet just a short distance from your nestbox. Any suggestion for a meeting place?"
"Well," Mrs. Duck replied, "there is a watering barrel about 10 yards from the box. Shall we meet there?"
The morning was cold and damp. Sam fluffed his neck feathers to help hold in body heat as he waited patiently for his client. She came quietly, and with whispered words they moved stealthily to the nestbox.
"Wait," whispered Sam, "My years of training and experience tell me that something isn't exactly right here. I don't see any straw. Isn't there usually some straw in the nestbox?"
Mrs. Duck, impressed with Sam's shrewd observation, replied, "Oh yes indeed. Straw makes it much more comfortable and inviting. I should have noted that and told you."
"Don't worry little lady, leave the professional observation to me. But there's something else there, something or someone in the box. Stand back while I get to the bottom of this!"
Mrs. Duck moved quickly and quietly away, but was nevertheless startled by Sam's sudden and loud exclamation, "All right, YOU IN THERE! Come out or I'm coming in. Don't be chicken!
"What do you mean, 'Don't be chicken'? I AM a chicken!" The irritated voice arose from the nest box as a trim, gray feathered hen stepped out.
"Who...Who are you?", demanded Sam. "Yes, Who are you?" parroted Mrs. Duck.
"I am Mrs. Greenfoots, a genuine mixed bantam who comes from a fine line of layers and setters.", the still fuming trim mound of feathers responded. "And who are the two of you, may I ask?"
Sam introduced Mrs. Duck and explained how she had engaged his services. He then asked Mrs. Greenfoots to explain her trespass and misappropriation of eggs, unless she would prefer to tell it to Judge Tracycat.
"Oh, no! Please don't have me arrested." the now dishelved hen pleaded. "I was just walking by the other morning, and I saw these lovely eggs in the nestbox. Something inside me just went bezerk! Something drove me, led me, yea,even forced me to sit on those eggs. I must have lost my mind temporarily. Please forgive me...I just can't help it."
Mrs. Duck, who was happy to find her eggs again, tried to comfort the sobbing Mrs. Greenfoots. She told Sam Drake that his services were no longer needed, that he could send her a bill, and that Mrs. Greenfoots and she were going to the area under to apple tree to discuss the pains of motherhood while searching for insects among the decaying apples.
That evening at the local feeding area, Sam Drake was surrounded by his usual retinue of ducklets who were listening with awe as Sam recounted his recent case.
"Oh, Sammy Baby, that must have been a terribly difficult case for you.", quigled one of the ducklets, the ducklet who was rumored to have recently posed for the centerfold of Playdrake magazine.
"No, Love,", replied Sam as he snuggled closer, "an easy case to crack...the case, not the egg."
Epilogue
Greenfoots continued to maintain her innocence.
In retrospect it would seem that she was merely controlled by hormones associated with "setting" and had no malicious intent in covering the eggs.
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James D. Satterfield Canton GA USA jsatt@gsu.edu