Eagle Eggs, $1.00

I put on the brakes at 65 mph. What did that say? The sign was crudely made, but provocative: Eagle Eggs, $1.00. I postponed my plans and headed down the dirt road in the direction of the helpfully pointing arrow. I had to meet the person who scaled the dizzying heights to plunder eagle aeries. And then sold the eggs for a buck a piece.

So ... I was a little surprised by the appearance of the man who greeted me. He didn't look like he was built for high adventure. He looked like a chicken farmer.

"Excuse me, sir," said I. "I'm here about the eagle eggs. Are you ... the person to ask about that?"

"The one and only!" grinned the farmer. "Come right this way."

He led me toward what, from a distance, looked like a chicken yard.

"Oh, and you can just call me Eagle Master," he added modestly.

As we neared the thing that looked like a chicken yard from a distance, I found that it also looked like a chicken yard from close up. With one exception. The birds that were waddling around the yard, scratching and pecking for food, were not chickens. They were eagles. On seeing me, a couple of the birds took fright and fluttered clumsily to the greater safety of their chicken ... their eagle coops.

I was stunned, and must have looked it. Eagle Master smiled with amusement.

"Don't sweat it," he said. "Everyone's a little surprised at first."

"Uh, how ...? What ...? When ...? Uh, how can this be?" I sputtered at last.

"Just a simple matter of political compromise," chuckled Eagle Master.

"Political ..." I was still sputtering incoherently.

"Sure. The eagles wanted to fly free, and I wanted to pen them up and sell their eggs. Get it?"

"Not a bit of it," I replied honestly.

"So ...," he prompted, "what happens when you have two sides with differing goals?"

"I have no idea," I mumbled.

"You compromise, that's what!" he said triumphantly, as if all had been explained.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't get it. Why would eagles have to compromise with you?"

"Because you've got to compromise," he argued reasonably. "It's the democratic way! Besides, I threatened to break their wings, if they didn't."

"And you could do that?" I asked skeptically.

"Mm-a-a-aybe," he replied coyly. "They didn't know if I could for sure or not, and neither did I, so we compromised."

"Excuse me," I said. "I still don't get this. If they wanted to be free, and you wanted to enslave them, ... well, they look pretty enslaved to me. How is that a compromise?"

"Oh, they get to keep their wings," said the Eagle Master. "Didn't I mention that?"

"So they could fly away at any moment."

"No, of course not," said the Eagle Master. "They get to keep their wings as long as they don't use them."

"What kind of deal is that?" I asked.

"A good one," said the Eagle Master. "For me."

"But if they still have their wings," I suggested, "they can fly away at any time."

"That lot?" asked the Eagle Master with a smirk. "The birds that agreed to this deal in the first place?"