Chicks

6/4:
Chicken jobs seem to follow me where I go. First at Pie Ranch I was an egg collector, then at Full Belly a chicken catcher and now again here I'm a chick hatcher. Every morning I go into the "chick shed" to check our incubators for signs of life.
Half the room is already taken up by a flurry of feathers and a chorus of peeping from all the tiny chicks that have already emerged from their shels. But on the other side are all the eggs that are just waiting to hatch tiny balls of wings and beak.
I check them with excitement, watching, waiting for a crack or a hole, anything. I spritz them with water regularly to help the little ones along until finally, a crack! I pick up the soft, cream colored egg and tap it gently with my finger. A soft peeping tickles my ear and I feel a wiggle. Carefully, I put it down and wait a few more hours. When I come back, I find a wet, disgruntled little mass that's supposed to be a chick. To me it looks more likea hairball that a cat spit out. I gently pick it up and place the fragile body into the second incubator so its feathers can fluff up a bit.
After another half day, the chick is ready to join his flock mates. I place him carefully inside the cage and he stares around at the bigger chicks as if it were his first day of school.