From hens' eggs, mighty court cases do grow. Anastasia Heath got in touch with this warning tale...
When I was about seven I owned a hen.Ìý She was a Rhode Island Red cross Light Sussex, and her name was Jane.Ìý I trained her to go for walks with me, wearing a soft braid harness and a lead.Ìý I held a short bamboo cane, and when I wanted her to turn left I pressed gently but firmly with the cane on herÌýright wing; likewiseÌýI pressed her left wing to go right.
One day we walked up the village and went into Fryer the Grocer's shop. ÌýJane paused inside the shop to lay an egg.Ìý A fearsome dispute then broke out, because Mr Fryer claimed the egg was his legal property, having been laid in his shop.Ìý That wasn't at all how I saw things.
The case in fact failed to reach the High Court, because no lawyer could find any precedent. My father, always a prudent man, then took out insurance against any legal costs or damages his children might land him with before we were of age.
