Day 12 (of 21) and the expression “a nervous hen” holds true.
Although I don’t have to, I candle most of the eggs each night. Like a mom watching over the crib to make sure her baby is still breathing, I hold my breath until I see the little worm wiggle inside the shell.
Then I exhale.
Some of the eggs have thicker shells which makes candling very difficult if not impossible. As things grow inside all I really see is a large darkened mass.
The whitish eggs are actually speckled with darker deposits which upon candling become pronounced. Those are also difficult to see anything inside. I quickly candle them each time hoping against hope that this will be the time I finally see something and when I don’t I replace them in the incubator.
But those light brown eggs? Heaven. The shells are thinner making them glow like an orange Halloween moon when I put them up to the candling light. Blood vessels criss-cross the interior and when you gently roll the egg, you see a blob (small but no longer tiny) wiggle in protest of being woken up.
Like the creator of Frankenstein’s monster, I manically yell out to the kids “It is alive!”.
Last night I candled the eggs with Griffin. He wasn’t expecting much. After all, they’re eggs right? But then he saw the wiggling interiors. One egg in particular seems to be more active, really kicking around when we rolled his crib, a miniature soccer player in the making.
“Well, hello, little guy.” was Griffin’s response when he saw the chick practice his goal kick.
I can’t tell you how attached I am getting to these little balls of compact cells. While I’ll have no problem at all returning the roosters to the farm from which they came (been there, done that with the whole rooster-neighbor thing) getting rid of some of the female babies might be a problem.
For crying out loud, if I’m so invested in them now as wiggling little pre-formed chicks, just imagine the overwhelmed, weepy mess I’ll be when they actually hatch and come into being.