Silas sat at the top of the stairs this morning outside our bedroom door, sniffling.
What’s the matter, honey?
The chicks aren’t pipping.
Dejected boy.
Well, they aren’t due to hatch until tomorrow of the next day. It isn’t time to worry yet. And if we don’t get any chicks this time, we’ll start a new batch. It will be okay. Sometimes things don’t always work out. But it will be okay.
I’ll go back down and listen.
He will sit for hour after endless hour by the Hovo-Bator in the next forty eight hours, listening.
What seems like only seconds later, I hear him pelting up the stairs. He’s hyper-ventilating.
I heard them! I heard them! I HEARD THE PIPPING!
Well, if that didn’t get everyone all het up. Rosebud and Huck bolt down the stairs. Seconds later they come pelting up the stairs, herdlike. They all three are hyper-ventilating now. WE HEARD THE PIPPING!
Sparky is almost ready to leave to earn our daily bread, he cannot leave until they have him hear the pipping. They yank and drag him to the Hovo-Bator so he can hyper-ventilate, too. We will get a report hourly from now until the chicks hatch on their progress.
