unanswered question

This morning I was attacked by an egg, not exactly in an unexpected way as I will detail below, but the effect was mildly shocking nonetheless. Pagan Easter traditions were only indirectly to blame for the incident, and black magic not at all. But how do you explain finding two bright yellow suns shining from your fried egg, your one fried egg?

I had looked for explanations for the first time when at high school where I had encountered double yolked eggs for the first time. They were dished up in the refectory of the boarding school I attended, much to the bewilderment of us students. None of us had ever seen such a thing before. They appeared out of nowhere and without a proper introduction, went strong for a while when nearly all eggs had two yolks and some even three, and then disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared.

We ate them without complaining and without any apparent ill effects, but it got us arguing. What could be the cause? At that time, the fall of the Berlin Wall was still fresh news. Sickening truths about the East were revealed daily. The environment had suffered toxic spills, chronic pollution and nuclear accidents. We had heard of such things only by way of rumor. Now they turned out to be true and worse.

Could this be the reason for the double-yolked eggs? Were mutagens raining on coops responsible for the deformations we observed daily on our plates? We abandoned that thought when we imagined the hens and envisioned more rational explanations. Our next theory that the chickens just happen to pop out twins at an astonishing rate was discarded when someone asked why. We were still not one bit closer to an answer when single-yolked eggs made a triumphant and complete return. Their twinned cousins, together with our inquisitiveness, disappeared in the dustbin of history.

Last week, all of a sudden, they came back when I went to Waitrose to buy eggs. The selection is overwhelmingly broad. How do you choose? All are free-range and good for the chickens – at least that's what the boxes proclaim. I picked this box up and that. The eggs were large or high in cholesterol-defying omega fatty acids or extra yellow; no product stood out. At the end of a five-minute process, I was left unsatisfied. I already reached out for cheapest when I suddenly struck gold, hand-selected eggs all but guaranteed to have too yolks. For such a surprising find, I'm happy to spend the extra pound. I tossed half a dozen eggs into my basket and left my worries about toxins and mutagens on the shelf. It can't be bad if Waitrose sells (and proudly advertises) it, can it?

Cracking the shell open to prepare the meal, it was indeed two yolks that came tumbling. So it came to pass this morning that chicken twins failed to see the light of day in my kitchen, that two little chicks, and not just one as usual, gave their infinitely short lives for my breakfast. The eggs were very tasty and it was with great pleasure that I ate my meal, but somewhere deep inside nagged an old question. How do two yolks get into one egg so frequently and consistently that one can base a major retail product thereon?