Not having an automatic egg rotator inside the incubator, I made a data list to help me keep track of turning the eggs three times a day until day 17, the day turning stops, and inside the egg, the chick angles towards the air sack. Most eggs need to be rotated during incubation to prevent the young chick from forming stuck to one internal side of the egg. After a day of testing, I marked my 20 eggs - X on one side, O on the other. Now if my father had two of the same thing, it usually meant one of them was not working, but in this case, both incubators passed the plug-in test. Just recently my hens have begun laying eggs again, after the dark-zone-winter-recharging phase of life, and so I kept aside some eggs for hatching. So part of what I brought home from the farm were two Hova-bator incubators and a plastic bag of mechanical internal organs – heating element, thermostat, thermometer, etcetera.
“Deb,” I said, what about this incubator stuff?” “Take it,” she said, “Beck?” “Take it,” she said. Above these boxes, I spied a white Styrofoam box of odd shape. Today, though, was a day of chaos and dissolution.įrom a large cardboard box, I was pulling out my youthful albums - Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band, Dylan, etc., - and leaving behind the dreadful musicals of my music teaching sister, Debbie - retired. After nine years of living without our father, we had finally settled on an equitable scheme which returned the farm to private ownership, dissolved the disastrous farm LLC, and kept the land in family hands without going on the open market.
#HOVA BATOR INCUBATOR FULL#
The house was full of family members claiming articles of interest to take home. This back porch was my grandmother’s first antique shop, “Yankee Shop Antiques.” Some of her antiques from that time were still found on the built-in pine bookshelves. We were on the lower back porch of the farm house, a winter day and cold. It was one of those sad days most families try to avoid but inevitably come to pass.
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