Just before Christmas I picked up this old reliable incubator. I was on the verge of putting one on my Christmas wish list and thought I should “check Craigslist first”. Famous last words.
Being able to hatch my own eggs is power. An incubator is power. I am drunk with power.
Symptoms of this include:
+ ordering hatching eggs of a rare, delightful-looking chicken: the Lavender Orpington.
+ deciding that I am unable to resist, for another single moment, the intense desire to add turkeys to the Acres’ menagerie. The twelve Blue Slate eggs scheduled to arrive are just a twinkle in Ma and Pa Turkeys’ eyes right now, but will come to fruition soon enough.
+ stashing away, like a rat, every single Araucana egg that is laid in my chicken coop. Those eggs are sporadic these days, making me anxious to cull the hungry non-producers once I have their offspring incubating. Dr. Hook, our Araucauna rooster makes these future chicks true to breed.
+ counting down the days till these books arrive.
I’ve got eggs on the brain these days. We await eagerly the visit of a friend who will instruct us in the ancient ways of Ukrainian Egg Dyeing. And chicks! I’ve placed my order for this year’s pasture broilers (more on that later) and Isadora and I are carefully selecting replacement hens. (in addition to the impending Lavender Orps and the Araucanas)
I will say it again, in full disclosure: I am drunk with incubator power.