.....diddly squat. No fluffy Easter chick-fest here......
The little incubator that hummed and buzzed beside me on my desk is now silent, empty and dissembled.
I'm sad to report that there were no chicks. Not a one. Yesterday, on day 22 having given up hope of a hatch, I cracked each one open and found that all were apparently unfertilised. I wonder what we thought we'd seen on day 9 when we candled them? Evidence of a vivid imagination perhaps.
Still, ever the optimist I take the view that as one door closes another will open. There will be other eggs to hatch. The cockerel's future is uncertain though.....will he end up as chicken soup or will warmer weather (and please, please, please can we have some warmer weather asap) perform a miracle with his fertility?
In the meantime I'm off to appease the household Gods. The ironing mountain calls.