It’s spring out. Jer and I were both ready for the end of winter, and I feel like with the hatching (is it still called birthing when they come out of an egg?) of our chicks, coupled with lovely warm weather, it’s arrived. I’m stuck inside on a fantastic Saturday finishing the LAST assignment for my Professional Specialization in Teaching French Immersion certificate, and I’m bitter about it. So I’m doing a blog post? Moving on.
Jer and I helped our third chick hatch yesterday because we think it’s shell dried out and it couldn’t get out itself. So we helped him out, and I fell in love with the slimy little chirpface, and we put him in the warm rubbermaid with his buddy, but then his buddy was pecking him (not so buddy, but what can you do?) so we put up a barricade, put him under the warming lamp and went over to buy enough local wool for me to make Jer a 30th birthday aran fisherman sweater (I’m making the one on the left. I wish I could give him the pants with in, and maybe even the dog…). When we got home, the warming lamp had somehow fallen and squished (and cooked) the newest chick. I feel about as awful as I did when our ducks got eaten. We’re learning lessons, but it sure sucks when the lessons we learn result in the creatures that are relying on us’ demise. Jer and I felt awful last night, and still do today, but we’re forgiving ourselves, and we will do better by our 30 chicks arriving this Thursday.
I’m back to frenching so hopefully I can get myself outside tomorrow, or maybe even this afternoon. Oh! And I just saw my first butterfly of the season… maybe a California tortoiseshell? Maybe? And Ozdick caught the biggest mouse I’ve ever seen in my life.