Life & Death

It’s been a polarised kind of day.

Hubby attended the military funeral of one of his friends.

I have been up since 5am attempting to watch the chicks hatch out, and doing badly. I thought the first little guy was stuck, so helped him out myself. I went back to bed for an hour at 8am, convinced that no more action was imminent. I expect the second chick erupted from his shell the moment I left the room; his chirrups had a faintly triumphant air to them. I began to wonder if hatching was something that poultry like to do in private. Call of nature, type o’ thing. Something like peeing behind a hedge when you’re out for a long walk.

I watched the pip holes like a suspicious hawk for the next 3 hours, in vain. I then left for a long-booked lunch date with a friend (lest you think me a lady wot lunches, let me assure you I can easily go a year or more between these oases) and arrived back home fractious, Harry having roared and misbehaved in the restaurant. I was unsurprised to see chick number three had shyly emerged from his shell in my absence.

The fourth waited until I was putting Harry to bed.

Five and Six are poking little beaks out of their pip holes, and still aren’t ready to commit. It’s nearly my bedtime and I am vaguely considering taking the incubator to bed, but I fear Hubby would make Remarks.

Mrs Brahma (a supposedly placid breed) should be proud: all three of her chicks are intermittently pecking hell out of one another and the Orpington already.

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3 Responses

  1. My sympathies for your husband.

    I think I’d take the incubator to bed with me. You can’t be too careful.

  2. Condolences to your husband on the loss of his friend. How sad.

    I never got to watch chickies hatch. They always did it in the middle of the night. Very quietly. Even when I begged to have the incubator in my room so I could watch. *sigh*

    But I did watch a lizard hatch once. Mum had found the egg in our sand-box and we all sat in a row and watched for an hour, and out came a perfect, jewel-bright lizard just over an inch long from nose to tail. Its little toes looked like thread, they were so teeny.

  3. I’m so sorry about your husband’s friend.

    And boo hoo about your shoe strap – those are damn cute shoes!

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