Last night, after careful consideration and much procrastinating, I turned off the incubator. But worry not! Because I gave the three fertile eggs to the serama pancake formally known as Vera. To my amazement and great relief, she looked at the eggs in front of her and then tapped them a bit with her beak. After a moments consideration, she scooped them under her wing one by one and wriggled about a bit until she was comfortable. I have officially placed all of my precious eggs in one basket.
I decided to go down this route for several reasons. After candling, I was relatively certain that Vera only had two fertile eggs. But the egg shell meant that I wasn't entirely sure, so I left it another twenty four hours and candled again. The egg lit up like a fairy light, but I could still see a dark mass. And the dark mass appeared to be slowly moving. It was definitely not as developed as the other embryo's, though, so I assumed that this embryo had died at some point and I decided to discard it and give Vera the remaining eggs. Once she was happily settled, I took the dud egg in to the kitchen.
Bracing myself, I decided to crack it open to see exactly what was going on. It took me a few minutes to pluck up the courage. Like most novices, I am so terribly afraid of getting it wrong. I had visions of cracking the egg only to find a tiny, viable embryo. In my rather over-active imagination, I could see a tiny chick turning to me with a reproachful look, and then I'd have to stick my head in the oven to make amends for wanton chick murder. Of course, when I cracked it I found a perfectly formed but unfertilised yolk. With slow dawning, I realised that the dark mass I'd seen slowly moving was probably this exact yolk suspended in the albumen. What a muppet.
So now it's all down to Vera.