Decision Time

Right, I have contacted every pekin breeder listed within a fifty mile radius and no one has any frizzles for sale. In fact, some don't even have eggs, what with the pekins love of brooding. Up and down the country, nest boxes are filled with flattened hens staring off in to the distance and muttering absently.

So yesterday, I recovered my accidental ebay purchase incubator from the understairs cupboard. I switched it on, just to test, and discovered that the bulb had gone. Bum. Just in case I should ever need it, I thought i really ought to buy some more bulbs. I also thought that buying some poultry disinfectant might be wise. This morning, at early o'clock, the postie delivered my bulbs. Now my incubator works wonderfully, and I have a few spare bulbs, just in case. I also found a small amount of disinfectant in the garage, so it is technically ready to be used, should I ever need to.

Purely out of interest, I rang 'round a few breeders this morning in case any might be selling hatching eggs. I was referred back to the pekins love of pancake impersonation, and advised that frizzle pekin eggs are unlikely to become available until early autumn. Hmmm.

Innocently trawling ebay, I have found a well known seller with six frizzle eggs for sale. My finger keeps hovering over the bid button. I very much want my frizzle, but I also need to think about the practicalities of homing the inevitable boys.

Decisions, decisions......

Oops.

Er, I sort of won those ebay eggs. Oops. The ever tolerant husband took it quite well, considering, merely pointing out all the very good reasons why it's a bad idea. He was very convincing. Hence, I'm waiting to see if the seller will accept my deepest apologies and let me off the hook. Good news is, hubby is coming around to the idea of hatching a few chickadees to sell. I feel a project coming on.....

Belinda has still been plastered to the nest all day. She has had company, though. Doris has snuggled in beside her. It appears that broodiness is contagious. I have visions of going out there one morning to find a huge pile of grumpy hens all trying to hatch each other.

Accidently Hatching Eggs?

Belinda is still broody, and growling at any human or chicken that dares to disturb her. I keep lifting her despite her protestations, and plonking her on the lawn. She sits for a moment, muttering to herself about stupid humans, before shakily wandering around. Soon as my back is turned though, she hot foots it back to the nest. The others are getting pretty fed up with their favourite nest being constantly occupied, and have taken to giving her a well aimed peck as she shuffles past. Like a bunch of bitchy school girls, the others gather and mutter amongst themselves about Lindy. The pecking order appears to be shifting.

The problem with having a broody, is that it brings to mind hatching chicks. Once that idea has lodged in the chicken keepers brain, it is only a matter of time before you start trawling ebay. Therefore, it's quite understandable how I might have accidently placed a bid on some blue laced wyandotte bantam hatching eggs. Ahem. Now, I'm not totally deluded, so I made my bid ridiculously low, and there is another day to run on the auction. I can't possibly win.

If I do win, I suspect that the ever tolerant husband might get a good deal less tolerant. In fact, he might swear at me a good bit in gaellic before slamming a few doors. Can't say that I'd blame him. Despite my longing to have a bit of land, we actually have a very ordinary suburban garden. Therefore, by making the bid low, I'm hoping to hang on to the dream for a bit longer, while ultimately knowing that there will be no cute balls of fluff for Lindy to turn savage on. At least, not yet.