Honestly, chicken sex doesn’t look like a ton of fun to me, but at least it’s over with quick.

But it’s not just thoughts like this that keep me staring for minutes at a time at the egg aisle in the grocery store. It’s the confounding number of choices. Yes: there is a good half-aisle devoted to eggs in our local store. There’s an entire aisle devoted to pricey water in plastic bottles, for some reason, even though you can get the exact same stuff out of the tap, minus the marketing. But the sheer variety in the egg section is paralyzing. I never know what to buy.

Eggs have been in the news cycle of late because apparently Biden made them more expensive, and so now we have to have our government eviscerated by ignorant racists who can’t quite make ends meet on four hundred billion dollars. Which is nuts, because eggs still seem like a bargain to me. That’s a lot of work, pounding an egg or two out of your cloaca every morning. It’s slave labor, of course, so that keeps the price down right there.

I always wondered why hens lay egg after egg in the absence of a rooster, but it turns out they do it because that’s what the egg farmer wants. Not that any individual hen is being rewarded for generosity. Unless you count not being slaughtered for your meat a reward. No, farmers want eggs, and have selected enthusiastic egg-layers over stingier ones, and in due time have developed strains of egg-popping virtuosi in the poultry world.

And the reason that works is that chickens lay eggs all the time whether a sperm happens by or not. Like most birds, they stash any acquired semen in a little internal closet and have the eggs mostly whomped up before sending it by the closet for a contribution. The hen doesn’t know in advance if she’s laying fertilized eggs or not. And that works in Nature because there’s generally no shortage of avid roosters.

“Nature” is an archaic term for the chaotic conditions that prevailed before modern agriculture. Chickens, for instance, used to have to peck around all day for slugs and snails and such just to get enough calcium for their eggshells. Now chickens have it easier, with a ready supply of wheat middlings and calcium all ground up for them, and the warmth and social stimulation of being packed in solid with other chickens.

But I still struggle with the choices in the egg aisle. There’s quite a range of prices and descriptors and my inclination to pick up the cheapest ones is at odds with my suspicion that a good liberal should go for one of the other cartons, or, more accurately, with the fear of being judged in the checkout line. So let’s break it down:

  • Cage-Free: The donor chickens are not kept in tiny cages but are allowed to roam freely in a hen house. As a bonus, they are prevented from tipping over by extreme density of other free-roaming chickens.
  • Free-Range: Still in the hen house, but they have access to a dab of the outdoors if they get a notion.
  • Pasture-Raised: These are from the archaic chickens. The poor things are outside trying to fend for themselves for the most part and just pop into a coop to sleep and lay eggs. These eggs are from Farmer Bob and you might be able to score them locally at a roadside stand but that’s about it.
  • Vegetarian diet: This is some kind of monastic penance bullshit. Chickens aren’t vegetarians.
  • All-Natural: Not made of rubber.
  • Farm-fresh: The egg truck from the factory farm was not sidelined in a parking lot for weeks on its way to the store.
    Hormone-free: Hormones in poultry were banned in the 1950s. This is ad copy. See “bottled water,” above.
  • Grade AA: Highest quality. May be used in soufflés, games, wall clocks, and remote controls.