Archive for August, 2009
….I am now a mother hen. It was a very busy weekend with all the hatching. While they pretty much care for themselves it definitely takes sticking close to home to be available to transfer from incubator to nursery. Dorene put it best when she said it’s like popcorn. It’s crazy! They just keep coming…
Our first little baby came early Saturday morning and our most recent just an hour ago. We are at 17 lives chicks, 3 dead chicks, 2 still working on it and 8 we’re not sure will ever hatch. But a greenie is on it’s way! Can’t wait to see what that one looks like.
Shortly into the hatching on Saturday morning Floyd gave me the scare of the year. Seizures. Scared me to death but I calmly wrapped him in a wet towel and dashed off to the vet. (That is when the calm left, that is when I knew we were somewhere that could care for him and I started crying) Anyway, x-rays, blood tests and $$$ later he has a bacterial infection in his abdomen. He was not a happy dog.
But I’m happy to say he’s much, much better today. Starting to follow me around again and actually wanted to go outside this morning.
OK, back to the chicks.
I know I keep saying it but I think if we had to go through what they do, we would never be born. Goodness gracious they’re exhausted when it’s all over! The little guy on the bottom actually just flopped over the top of the egg next to it and slept for 20 minutes. They flop around, they can’t roll over, they can’t walk, they’re quite pathetic. But they’re so sweet and I find myself having a hard time not worrying about each and every one of them when they first hatch. Here are 2 new hatchlings keeping each other warm.
I mean, seriously, is that not one of the cutest things you’ve seen in a long time? They peep like crazy during this time. I think they’re trying to get their lungs going the same way as human babies cry. Once they’re out for about 3 hours they fluff up. We call this one Duck (even though it isn’t a Bible Chick name) because the kids think he looks much more like a duck than a chicken.
And then there is this one. The cross on top of her head proves they are actually Bible chicks. (hee…)
Here we are, 15 of the 17 up and running (2 are hiding behind the feeders, hey, you try and get 17 chicks all in one frame!)….
….and 2 still in the nursery bucket (the one on the bottom ate it. I lifted the incubator lid to get hime out and he flopped right over the edge smack onto the tile floor. Scared me but he’s doing just fine)….
Can’t wait to see that lone greenie….
…so far 16 have hatched. 13 have survived. More still trying. What an arduous process for them! Lots of pictures to share and lots of things learned. Looks like the green eggs may be duds. Darn weak roosters…
More later. For now, I have to continue being mother hen.
Woke up to 2 of these this morning and didn’t even care that I was pulled out of bed at 7:30 on a Saturday to see them. I love a good, strong rooster. Now I’m hoping for much more action before the soccer game at noon and definitely before I leave for dinner and Keith’s concert at 4:30 (yes, Keith Urban, but you should all know by now that we’re on a first name basis).
…when you’re dreaming at night that a room in your house is overrun with baby chicks and you can’t find en empty container big enough to put them all in? Is it bad that in the same dream you ran over to the incubator and realized that even more chicks were still in there waiting to be taken out?
…days around the homestead since the kids went back to school. Cross country meets and practices, soccer practice, basketball practice, working in a quiet home without interruption, cooler days…
There are some days, when I’ve typed for 5 hours straight, haven’t gotten out of my PJ’s and am thinking of the errands I should run that it all can seem a little mundane and isolating. But then I look to my left, my right and behind me (or at my feet serving as a footstool) and there are sleeping companions everywhere. If I get up, they get up. Go to the kitchen? No problem, we’ll lay in here. Need to fold laundry? Don’t sweat it, we’ll go to the bedroom and hang out there. Oh, really? You’re leaving? OK, let us walk you to the door. I am of course talking about my dogs.
The kids make fun of me because I talk to them. I don’t just say come, sit and stay. I have conversations. I reason with them. I’m telling you they listen and they understand. But as Alden puts it, “Mom, you’re home alone too much. You’re talking to the dogs like they’re humans.” What can I say? If these faces were looking up at you 24/7, willing to listen (which is more than I can say for most), to love, to adore and willing to follow wouldn’t you talk to them?
…that my boys aren’t as grown up as they’d like everyone to think. As a matter of fact, they’re a lesson in contradictions. Take Alden for instance. A few days ago at the breakfast table as he talked about cell phones, girls and possible careers he came across as very mature, very scary-like savvy for a boy of almost 11 years. Then he said, “Oh, mommy….” Uh-huh…you’re words betray you little boy.
Then there is Powell. The normally even-keeled one. All of the sudden we’re seeing surges of hormones in his temperament, evidence on his face and let’s just say I didn’t know his eyes could roll until very recently. There is a struggle going on inside; he wants to be independent and push us away yet in the quiet moments when he isn’t worried about what anyone is thinking his cuddling betrays him.