It's a rare event for all live eggs to get from 3-week incubation to a successful hatch. On Day 11, two eggs were removed as their embryos had stopped developing. We were down to 4 eggs at that point. All appeared to go smoothly the rest of the way for them.
One day during lockdown, I noticed 3 of the 4 eggs each wobble a bit.
The timing was in line with when chicks are moving into their hatching position. It was so comforting and a real thrill to see!
Ironically, the egg I didn't see wobble was first to hatch successfully.
But, as noted in that post, the second chick to pip had a literal bad turn to contend with. Clearly drawn to that egg because it was wobbling and peeping with an active chick working to zip its way out, nestling up to and nudging it so much during its 8 hours in the incubator waiting for the others to hatch, the hatchling turned the second pipped egg upside down -- directly on its air hole.
The newborn chick laid on top of or next to it, wedging it into the incubator wall.
After 8 hours in the incubator as the lone egg to hatch, and trying to stem dehydration, Elsike was removed and put into the nursery to get its first drink of water. At this point, I also quickly righted the second pipped egg. (Not sure if that was a help at this point or if I made the hatching situation worse by doing so.)
You could see a small bit of zipping had taken place even though its air hole was on the bottom for the majority of the day. But, seeing that small bit of progress had me hopeful that all would go well (ie., the chick would not drown in the fluid buildup that took place at the hole due to gravity drawing it down over those 7+ hours).
Four hours after being righted again, it had made a bit more zipping progress. Still hopeful we will have a successful hatch at this point!
Unfortunately, this is when the issue of fluid build-up came into play as the next time I checked on progress presented the worse-case scenario being played out before my eyes: the fluid was oozing out, covering the beak's breathing holes.
After a full day's struggle (from at least 7am to 10pm), I heard its last chirp and the poor thing finally gave in to the inevitable. It was so sad! This egg was the first one to show clear movement during early candling. I'd lovingly -- and with great hope -- labeled it 'Shirley' after my 100 year old mother-in-law who'd died last October. I thought, "March was her birth month. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a chick born the same month named after her?"
Well...I won't be doing that again!
It made the loss more significant to me.
Spending those hours (from 4-10pm) rooting it on in its struggle for life -- unable to do anything to help -- was heartbreaking. Opening the incubator cover causes humidity to drop suddenly, shrink-wrapping the chick in its inner liner and rendering it unable to continue to zip itself out; by doing so, you endanger all of the eggs still waiting to hatch. (When I finally removed the lost chick just before midnight, sure enough, the sticky ooze immediately solidified around the chick's beak.)
There are two eggs remaining in the incubator. Praying they will hatch by morning. Bittersweet day. So grateful for the successful hatching of Elsike; but, torn up over the loss of what would have been our little Shirley chickie.
Gratitude for it all, the good and even the bad.
That's something MIL Shirley was a living example of.
My husband reminded me that it was just a year ago that we celebrated her 100th birthday with a lovely, intimate family birthday party.
As soon as he mentioned it, I recalled the party was on Good Friday a year ago! Shirley had made a small corner devoted to the Resurrection of Christ.
She took me over to see it, saying, "See, I didn't forget." I treasured being able to talk about our faith, and it touched me so that she did that with me.
We'll never forget, either, Shirley.
Thank you for leaving such a rich legacy behind in each of your children and the hundreds of lives you touched with your positivity, faith and love through your 100 remarkable years on Earth with us.
Life is an amazing riddle and journey.
It was also a year ago this month (March 2023) that we had our final visit from a family of wild turkeys who'd been raised the year before (June-November 2022) near our home. It was the first time in 20+ years of our living here that a beautiful wild turkey Mama brought her brood of 7 little pips to eat under our birdfeeder.
I fell in love with those birds, felt so blessed and special to be able to watch the chicks grow up -- so fast! There were tragedies and losses there, too, during that year and a half of visits from the now fully grown chicks. Last March (2023), 4 of the 8 returned (1 female and 3 males) for a handful of visits before they made their way deeper into their adult years and further away from their childhood 'home'.
When the wild turkey family started visiting us daily, I looked up what the totem animal represented in ancient cultures (or its
meaning on the 'spiritual plane'):
Turkey symbolism is a good omen.
Thus it indicates that great gifts are on their way to you. However, you must also understand that this bird, like the Octopus, is always a symbol of sacrifice for renewal. In other words, this spirit animal reminds you that you have to let go of something for new things to arrive. Therefore the Turkey meaning tells you that generosity will open the doors to growth and rebirth.
My memories have gone back to our wild turkeys often as my husband and I embarked on this new journey of owning a small farm almost entirely by chance and obviously great good fortune (from God or the fates, as you prefer).
Animals tap our deepest primal selves. People, our vast hearts. Christ, our timeless and wondrous souls. It's been abundantly clear that I'm not blessed to walk this Earth with a teflon joy as Shirley did, though I do have a deep faith; but, always (even when it doesn't show in my outer behavior or mood) I have evergreen gratitude flowing for it all!
May God bless all creatures great and small.
Especially the smallest and loneliest ones.
