About three weeks ago some avid mowing displaced a mother pheasant, revealing quite the clutch of eggs: 15. Phil decided it would be a fun project for the boys see the eggs hatch. This time an actual incubator was purchased (last time we learned the hard way that a crockpot isn't the greatest . . . more like the eggs learned the hard way . . .)
Fast forward to yesterday: within hours the 15 eggs went from a few pecked spots to all-but-one hatched. One guy didn't crack his way out, and by 9:30pm or so we just had to help him, bu he was not for this world. The rest--all 14 of them--are now thriving, busy, cheeping chicks. All that damp fluff is fluffy, and the kids can't get enough peeks at them. It is so funny to watch them, especially when one loses balance and rocks back and forth on his back, with two little stick-legs flailing. (Don't worry, that part only lasts a second, but it's cute.)
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