The girls are happy and healthy. They get plenty of food and water. Maybe life's too good. Every morning they greet me like puppies. "Let us out, let us out." "What are we doing today."
Maybe they have grander plans for their lives than providing me (along with a few of my co-worker's) breakfast. But I have customers and grand plans of them paying for their own feed.
It's hard to tell the shirkers because I get a variety of egg colors. Dark brown, light brown, bluegreen, green and one white one.
I know who lays the white one. She's not a shirker.
Ramona is not a shirker.
I think Smokey is doing her part.
The rest I'm not too sure about.