Today, on Easter Sunday, with what couldn’t have been more perfect timing, I was thrilled to discover my first guinea egg.

Here’s how it went down in a rather magical way. This morning around eight I opened the guinea coop so the birds could come out. The first chore on my list was cleaning out the coop, a disgusting task that involves shoveling and scraping manure and pine shavings followed by blowing feather dust out of all the coop crannies with the air compressor. While I labored the birds roamed the entire property, sticking close together while enjoying the dew on the grass and all the fresh bugs. Since the massacre I’ve hardened myself to their fate, and I no longer go after them when they head into the woods or out of sight in the field. I figure that they all experienced the night when their flock mates were dragged shrieking into the woods, and if that didn’t teach them to stick around nothing will.

After finishing the coop, I carried on with other farm chores but left it open to air out. The guineas did their thing, which hopefully involved eating lots of ticks. Around three I dumped in fresh pine shavings, and added cool clean water and food to tempt the birds inside. I went in the house to shower off the guinea dust, and when I came back downstairs I noticed the birds were in the doorway of the coop—certainly a welcome sight after their recent deadly doorway skittishness. I headed out to shut them inside for the day.

I glanced in the coop as I was closing the door and did a double take. Sitting right on the fresh pine shavings was a perfect light brown egg. The guineas hadn’t been in their house for more than a few minutes, and when I picked up the egg it was still warm with a tiny bit of fresh blood on the shell. It actually was amazing, this thing so perfectly manifested out of what seemed like thin air. When I picked up the egg, the past year’s emotional and physical work of keeping these birds was totally worth it. And my mom will no longer need to say, “If you’re going to go to all this trouble you should at least get something that makes eggs!” Can you spot the egg below?

I took the egg in the house for a quick photo shoot, to show you what it looks like compared with some chicken eggs I got from a friend’s farm. The guinea egg is on the right. I think it’s pretty amazing that this hen—and I have no idea who she is—laid in the coop after a whole day of freedom. Guineas are known for laying outside under the cover of brush. And unlike chickens, they don’t use nest boxes.

I didn’t know what to do with the egg! At first I returned it to the coop thinking it may encourage the hen to continue laying, but when I checked on the birds a few hours later, the egg was buried and forgotten in the pine shavings. I didn’t want to accidentally step on it in the coop, so I found it and brought it in the house where I stuck it in the fridge. If anyone would like to sample a guinea egg, it’s all yours! They are supposed to be delicious.

And if that weren’t enough eggcitement, check out what’s in the bluebird box!

And that, my friends, is how we do an Easter egg hunt at Bonafide Farm.