“Stop it with the cheep thrills.”
So quoth Steve, upon hearing me chirping to the eggs again. I did. I stopped. Because I didn’t hear anything in return. Am terrified I’ve killed them.
So quoth Steve, upon hearing me chirping to the eggs again. I did. I stopped. Because I didn’t hear anything in return. Am terrified I’ve killed them.
I’m on day 20 and waiting for chicks to hatch is pure torture. I won’t tell you how much time I’ve spendt staring through the little plastic windows of the hovabator willing the eggs to pip. I could swear that I’ve seen a couple of eggs move a little, but then they stop and I attribute it to too much caffeine (which, incidentally, I’m back on. I missed it too much.)
I had read that if you chirp at the eggs, the little chicks will chirp back if they’ve pippped internally. So there I was chirping away at them through the vent hole of the incubator when Steve staggered into the kitchen to get coffee. “WHAT are you doing?”
“I’m chirping at the eggs,” I said.
“Oh my God.”
Which pretty much sums it up, doesn’t it?