Eggs and pd's

Today was sloppy and disgusting. The only saving grace was that we were able to go home early at 2pm. The not so exciting part was that there were 35 cones scattered around Erica's tower that needed to be pulled/picked up out of 35 burrows. As the cones had been put in prior to the rain and filled in with dirt, they were now filled in with mud. It was a lovely task, and as I squelched through the sludge between burrows, I quickly ceased to care that I looked as though I had done a face plant in the mud.
Just as I was yanking out a particularly well packed in cone, I had a tourist pull up in her car, and ask if she could ask me a question. Never mind the fact that it was pouring, and not that I really cared, as there was little chance of me getting any wetter. I sloughed over to her pristine car, taking care to stay well clear of her cautiously rolled down window. Her question was one to remember: ' How many eggs do prairie dogs eat a day?' I stared at her, certain the mud on my hairline had drained into my ears and clogged them. But no, she repeated the question, explaining that she and her friend had seen a broken egg in the road, and assumed that a wily pd had somehow climbed into a nest (duck by the look of the egg in the picture they had taken), carried the egg to the road, presumably rolling it, as duck eggs are approximately the size of a pd's head, and had a nice snack. I explained that while pd's don't eat eggs, gulls and ravens do, and that's probably what had eaten it. She asked if it was ok if she told her grandchildren it was a pd...at that point I was practically floating in the sodden mud, so I responded (as nicely as possible), that she would be giving them improper information, but that she could do as she liked. I then wished her a good rest of her day, and turned away....promptly falling down in a mini mudslide. She drove off.