I am taking up a new hobby, dear reader. In the past, I have shared my affinity for birds. I enjoy all birds, wild, domestic, poultry, and waterfowl. My favorite birds, my spirit animals, if you will, are owls and hummingbirds, but I like all birds. With my new lone frizzled chicken, Mrs. Frizzlebottoms, I now have frizzled chicken eggs. It is also the season when my grumpy, cantankerous geese are laying eggs. So, I have decided I am going to hatch eggs for fun.
I have been shopping for baby chicks and want to add fun breeds to my little backyard flock. However, several hatcheries are sold out or are not shipping baby chicks. I assume it is because of the bird flu. While lamenting the unfairness of being unable to satisfy my desire for fun chickens, The Bibbed Wonder looked at me like I was clueless, crazy, or both, and asked me why I don't hatch my chickens' eggs? "Well, I don't have an incubator," I grumpily said. "I could ask Cindy if I can borrow hers again or give them to Jenna to hatch." Again, my husband looked at me like I was not connecting the dots of where this conversation was going. "What?" I groused. He said, "Follow me on this, you could order an incubator and hatch them yourself." Overlooking his obviously offensive smart ass-ness, I exclaimed, "Oh, good idea!" Most of the time, I assume I will be told no to any new, fun, and exciting ideas. I'm just so conditioned to being told no all the time, I don't even dream anymore. He has successfully crushed my spirit, dear reader. (Said with a lot of giggles and sarcasm.)
He reminded me two days later to order my incubator. I'm a little distracted these days. I am trying to get my kitchen repainted before the babies come in a few weeks, and it is taking all the focus I can muster. Let me say, not all my ideas are good ideas. Scrubbing down the tin ceiling in my kitchen, painting the walls, and now painting the cabinets are way more work and way more time-consuming than I imagined. My little arms are killing me from scrubbing down the ceiling. The walls were painted, except for the painting above the cabinets, it was not a bad job. However, sitting and priming, painting, and varnishing the cabinets is a slow, painful process. I say I am not ready to overhaul the kitchen because I can't stand the idea of the mess, inconvenience, and workers invading my space. Still, overhauling seems more appealing when someone else is doing the work—painting kitchen cabinets myself- is not a good idea, not a good idea at all. Anyhow, I remembered to order my incubator and it finally arrived.
I have been saving eggs from Mrs. Frizzlebottoms. My poor, lovely little hen is lonely since the stupid hawk killed Mr. Frizzlebottoms. She has been hanging out with Romeo, our geriatric Napoleon rooster. The big hens bully her, and she doesn't seem to have any friends. My rationale for buying silkie hens and other frizzles is that Mrs. Frizzlebottoms will have friends her size and temperament. She is very docile and cute. I tell her the other hens are just jealous of her beauty and fancy feathers, but it doesn't make her feel any less lonely. So, Frizz, as I call her, needs little fancy friends. Frizz will have little frizzled babies to hang out with and befriend when her eggs hatch. However, The Bibbed Wonder pointed out that I must focus on hatching goose eggs since they lay for a short time.
My funny little husband thinks I will hatch goose eggs and sell or rehome my baby geese. Silly man, we all know that's not happening! If I hatch baby geese, I will add them to my flock of grumpy geese and keep them for the next thirty years. Sell baby geese, that's just preposterous! I have no intention of selling or rehoming any of my birdies. I might trade for fun breeds, but won't part with any of my hatchlings for the sake of parting with them. The Bibbed Wonder can be so disillusioned sometimes.
Before I can hatch baby geese, I have to collect eggs. The geese are laying, but something comes in every night and eats their eggs. Whatever is coming in must be fierce because geese are scary. I wait for them to exit the nest before I go in their little hut to gather eggs, but it is always at least twenty-four hours after they lay them before they abandon them. My guess is it is an opossum or a raccoon. The critters are becoming very bold. There was a time our dog Chubby killed every opossum and raccoon in a five-mile radius. My old man can't see or hear and rarely leaves the porch. Buster is a lover, not a fighter unless you are a human. He will hurt a person long before he will hurt another creature. Buster can't be left unattended when the delivery people show up, or they won't get out of their trucks, which is wise on their part. If we are outside when a delivery arrives, Buster places himself between us and the delivery drivers with the hair standing up on his back and growling threateningly. Even when I tell him it's okay, he keeps a cautious eye on the drivers and won't allow them to get near me. He's a good dog. However, I wish he had the same attitude about whatever is eating my goose eggs.
Once my kitchen project is completed, I will have to turn a corner of the feed room into a nursery for my hatchlings. That will be the next project that will occupy my time, as if I don't have enough to keep me occupied. However, think how fun it will be to raise baby geese and frizzle chickens! Eeeek! So fun!
On this lovely spring day, stay safe, be smart, do things to keep you excited, allow your significant other to believe you won't keep everything you hatch, and keep washing your hands.
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