A casual mention of the ostrich farms between Tucson and Phoenix is all it took to set me in motion. A little bit of googling and I had located Rooster Cogburn’s Ostrich Ranch in Picacho, AZ. The largest ostrich ranch in America with over 1100 african ostrich in the middle of the Arizona desert. It was now a mandatory stop on my trip.

And as it turns out I had an absolute blast seeing and feeding the ostrich! An experience I won’t soon forget. Who knew I could have so much fun in a town named after a pokemon? Among other things I learned that ostrich bite. Their necks swaying and lurching at me like giant angry cobra snakes. My digits persevere today only by the grace of god and by the biological fact that ostrich don’t have teeth.

On my way off the ranch as I rid my hands of ostrich saliva with a handi-wipe, I noticed a ranch hand who could have been Rooster, Jr. This made me think of RJR as a good nickname for him. Which made me think of ‘Who Shot JR?’ Which led me to thoughts of ‘Who shot RJR?’ and an image of detectives showing up at the ranch to find the answer to this burning question and all of the ostrich sticking their heads in the ground upon their arrival. But I digress….

A trip like this wouldn’t be complete without buying an actual ostrich egg. They’re enormous and outrageous and when it arrived at my desk at work I was pretty eggcited to say the least. But what to do with the egg?

A lot of options ran through my mind:

• get revenge on the punks who egged my car in the suburbs back in September.
• carry the egg around with me wherever I go for an entire month without breaking it to teach me the responsibility of having a baby.
• go see Rocky VI and when people start filing out at the end of the movie stand up proud and tall, take out the egg and crack it into a big gulp cup and drink it down raw, and then sprint from the theatre screaming Eye of the Tiger lyrics….. “Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival!!”.
• walk into the public library during a children’s hour and slam the egg into the middle of the reading circle and yell, “Special delivery from all the king’s men!” splosh. And run away.
• leave the egg under the Make Way for Ducklings statue in the Boston Public Garden.

But these are all utterly ridiculous ideas, obviously. So what should I do with my precious egg then? I decided to make the largest sunny-side up egg anyone has ever seen! Yessss! This couldn’t be achieved at home so a vital key would be finding and approaching a local establishment that would let me use their industrial size grill to make this happen. Can you imagine walking into a place and broaching this subject? Call it the old Andy charm. Call it fate. But to my amazement I found a local cafe that was not only accommodating but was actually as eggcited as I was to make this idea a reality.

I felt like a covert operative when I got a text message from the cafe that simply said “Sat. 2:45pm. Ostrich egg.” A time had been set. And I was a bit surprised to find some select patrons waiting at the cafe, having gotten wind of the event. Word had gotten out.

I think what transpired next can best be conveyed through pictures.

I was given the honor of cracking the egg open and pouring it onto the grill. But after that point I handed the reins over to a more seasoned chef. (note: the hand in the pics is the chef, not me)

It was a success beyond my greatest expectations. The yolk was intact, something I was sure would have broken during transit. It poured onto the grill and cooked perfectly. And it was delicious! Fluffier and much sweeter than a normal egg. We put the closed sign on the front door and all enjoyed our treat. Lots of cell phone pictures were taken and a few “Hey, guess what I’m eating right now?!” calls were made. There were five of us there that day and we couldn’t finish the egg on our own, which they say is equivalent to 24 chicken eggs.

I walked home from the cafe with a proud smile on my face. I felt like I had not only experienced but initiated something world record-ish. And I had entertained not only myself but others in the process.

I got home and found a Beacon Hill Times on my stoop. I opened it to page two and saw something very very …. intriguing.

(*wink*)

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