If you hear a faint rustling among the straw in your henhouse at dawn, followed by a soft, nervous cooing sound that is not quite chicken nor human, you may have been visited by an Eggler.
The Eggler also known as an Eggcap is a timid, awkward creature, small and bundled in a patchy cloak with a hood that droops into two pointed flaps, resembling the crest of a jester or the comb of an old hen. Its round eyes peer from beneath the hood, wide and worried, as though it constantly expects to be scolded.
Eggcaps are harmless, but deeply anxious. They visit chicken coops under the cover of morning mist, sneaking between nests with quick, jittery movements. They steal only two eggs, never more, never less, unless they feel they are unwelcome.
If an Eggcap takes three, four, or empties the nest altogether, it is said that the farmer has insulted them, perhaps by shouting, or refusing to share eggs in hard times.
But more often, an Eggler is a gentle thief, tucking two eggs under its floppy hat with care before scurrying away into the brush, its nervous little steps leaving faint tracks like chicken scratches in the mud.
The purpose of the stolen eggs is a mystery.
Some say Egglers hatch them beneath their hats, raising the chicks in hidden glades until the birds are old enough to join wild flocks. Others believe the eggs are gifts to other shy creatures, exchanged like tokens of goodwill among the unseen folk. A few claim that Eggcaps simply hoard eggs out of comfort, keeping them warm under their hats as a shield against the world’s harshness.
Whatever the truth, they mean no harm, unless you give them reason to fear you.
Farmers who notice the telltale sign, two eggs missing, but the rest untouched, know to leave a small offering:
A sprig of Lavender tucked in the nesting straw.
Lavender calms the Eggcap’s nerves, signaling that it is safe to return, that it is welcome to take its two eggs without fear.
Those who treat Eggcaps with kindness are said to find their hens unusually healthy, their eggs larger and more plentiful—as though the shy visitor whispers to the birds in gratitude.
But those who curse or chase the Eggcap often find their hens uneasy, their eggs growing fewer each week—until, one morning, the coop is silent, and the nests are cold.
If you find two eggs missing,
Do not shout.
Do not bar the door.
Leave lavender among the straw.
And if you catch a glimpse of a small hooded figure hurrying away, eggs carefully tucked beneath its cap—
Smile.
Let it go.
And know that you are part of its quiet, gentle world.
