When I lifted the egg for examination
it felt dead-weight-hefty and deathly cold,
and it had been punctured, likely, I initially presumed,
by a raccoon biting on it.

The egg had been rained upon for at least six hours
all throughout new day's dawning,
and it was thoroughly internally saturated with near-freezing rainwater
that had seeped in.

The temporary egg tooth at the tip of the beak of the baby goose
was visible through the egg shell's hole puncture.

Upon seeing this,
I wondered if the chick inside had successfully 'pipped' and 'pinked' its shell,
only to then suffocate or drown while attempting to breathe at the breach.

Hypothermia and exhaustion were other factors I hypothesized as well.

I tilted the egg with its hole puncture bottom~dead-down
and I drained from it as much chilly water as I reasonably could,
then I securely cupped the hapless egg as best I could
in my knit-gloved left hand

My prospective intent for the goose egg
was to desiccant~dry~sand--preserve it
for eventual super fascinating nature interpretation.

Just twenty minutes or so later, however,
while walking back to the nature center,
I was astonished to detect in my hand
intermittenttly brief wee series of tiny little 'tap-tap-taps'
from inside the egg.

Immediately did I muse
I'd suddenly surprisingly become
a sapient
walking
breathing
living
Code Sounder Receiving Station.

"Message received and understood"
was my only viably conscionable reply.

Thinking as expediently and expeditiously as I possibly could,
I decided to transport the egg to sheltered care
by placing it ever so cautiously under my armpit.

An hour or so later, upon arriving at the nature center,
I was giddy with glee at how good my armpit was
at keeping my newly accessioned ward
safe and warm.

For the next three days,
everywhere I went
(and I was always going everywhere of course)
I went with the goose egg under my armpit,
which precipitated plenty of impromptu opportunities
for interpretive nature improv
of course.