Monday, March 26, 2012
It has been a splendid day with boys galore. Okay, mostly Owen but Gibson came over for his first visit and even had supper with us.
Okay, okay, he didn't eat but he slept while we ate.
Of course I only let him stay in that little seat for a few minutes before my body took control of me and I reached down and scooped him up and ate with him cradled in my left arm. It made no difference to him but it gave me great joy and contentment.
Owen was such a good young'un today.
He seems so big now that Gibson is here. We sat on the kitchen steps and fed the chickens some biscuits from yesterday's breakfast and when it came time to eat our lunch he wanted to eat out there too. I said, "But Owen, let's eat on the back porch where we have a table."
"'Tend table!" he said.
"You want to pretend we have a table?"
And so we did. He ate watermelon and pizza and we fed Miss Ozzie a few bites of fruit too, which she enjoyed tremendously and we discussed Mutant Ninja Turtles and their love of pizza and I tried to be hip and remember their names but all I could come up with was Michelangelo and Leonardo and I wasn't really sure of those two.
He took a nap with me on my new sheets which he proclaimed to be cozy and when I'd gotten him down with the Mr. Peep story, I discovered that one of the incubator eggs was actually doing something. Rocking a bit and there was a tiny hole in it and I could see a beak working at the shell. It was pretty darn exciting and I had to call Mr. Moon and the process is still going on now, hours and hours later and Mr. Moon is sitting in front of the incubator, watching the baby try to peck its way out. Another egg has a cracked shell and is moving a bit and yet another one is rocking. So...
We shall see.
If we get one real live peep, I'll be so happy although I would hope that there would be more. We'll just have to see. All of the instructions say to leave them alone and let them peck their way out- that if you don't, the muscles will not have developed enough for the babies to stand up.
Survival of the fittest and so forth and it seems cruel but so is nature and that is just the truth. It has its own system and it's best not to fuck with it. You can already hear the little guy in that shell chirping away. We chirp back, hoping to encourage the chick to continue with his or her struggle for freedom, release, life.
So it's been a very good day with lots of playing and painting and coloring and bathing and sleeping and pecking and chirping and cooking and laundry and laughing and Mr. Moon got home in time to play too and then were were puzzles and bamboo kicking and the hitting of trees with bamboo and then there was supper and baby-cuddling and now the little family has gone home and here we are. The kitchen is cleaned up and I am tired, tired, but a good tired.
A deserved tired.
Now I have to decide whether or not to stay up and watch this baby come out of its shell. I need to do a little studying to determine whether or not it can stay in the incubator. The information on the internet is so conflicting. And the information I have in my chicken book has yet a different opinion.
Ah-lah. I know far more about the birthin' of human babies than I do of chicken babies.
I suppose this is a good thing.
Well, I'll report in tomorrow. You can count on that.
Tomorrow. Gibson will be one week old. Bless his little heart. And he's already been out to Mer-Mer and Bop's house which his big brother knows better than anyone. When I bring Owen here I always ask him who lives here and he always says that Mer-Mer lives here and Bop lives here and Owen lives here.
I like that. And before we know it, Gibson will be considering it his house, too.
This sweet old house where chickens are born and there are hiding places for boys, and goats next door and a garden to help in and trees to climb and bamboo to kick and porches to play on and beds to nap on and where life just keeps on happening.
Night from Lloyd, y'all.
UPDATE: The chick is out of his shell. Early moments and we shall see if he survives.