“Nine liters!” exclaimed Emile. “Oh, what an egg! Our large vinegar jug only holds ten liters. Certainly the young that come from that ought to know how to run and to eat.”
“To equal in bulk the egg of the epyornis it would take one hundred and forty-eight hen’s eggs.”
“I think they could make a famous omelet with only one of those eggs.”
“A fine large one could be made, too, with an ostrich-egg, which in size represents nearly two dozen [[54]]hen’s eggs. It need not be added that young ostriches know how to run and to eat as soon as they come out of the shell.
“Those are the largest eggs; now let us consider the smallest ones. They are those of the humming-bird, a charming creature whose splendid plumage would outshine the most brilliant costly metals, precious stones, and jewels. There are some as small as our large wasps and that certain spiders catch in their webs just as the spiders of our country catch gnats. Their nest is a cup of cotton no bigger than half an apricot. Judge then the size of the eggs. It would take three hundred and forty to make one hen’s egg, and fifty thousand to make one laid by the epyornis.”
“I imagine the little humming-birds in their nest must be all naked at first and blind, taking their food from their mother’s beak.”
“From the smallness of the egg it could not be otherwise.” [[55]]
[1] Uncle Paul and his nephews are here allowed to defy the purist, as they probably would in real life.—Translator. [↑]