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humidity right； turn the egg several times a day； and in a
few weeks you'll have yourself a little peeper。”
He handed me a lightbulb and an extension cord with a socket attached。 “Fasten this through
the hole in the Plexiglas。 I'll find some
……… Page 31………
thermometers。”
“Some？ We need more than one？”
“We have to make you a hygrometer。”
“A hygrometer？” “To check the humidity inside the incubator。 It's just a thermometer with wet
gauze around the bulb。”
I smiled。 “No mushy chick disease？”
He smiled back。 “Precisely。”
By the next afternoon I had not one； but six chicken eggs incubating at a cozy 102 degrees
Fahrenheit。 “They don't all make it； Juli；” Mrs。 Brubeck
told me。 “Hope for one。 The record's three。 The grade's in the documentation。 Be a scientist。
Good luck。” And with that； she was off。
Documentation？ Of what？ I had to turn the eggs three times a day and regulate the
temperature and humidity； but aside from that what was there
to do？
That night my father came out to the garage with a cardboard tube and a flashlight。 He taped
the two together so that the light beam was forced
straight out the tube。 “Let me show you how to candle an egg；” he said； then switched off the
garage light。
I'd seen a section on candling eggs in Mrs。 Brubeck's book； but I hadn't really read it yet。
“Why do they call it that？” I asked him。 “And why do you
do it？”
“People used candles to do this before they had incandescent lighting。” He held an egg up to
the cardboard tube。 “The light lets you see through
the shell so you can watch the embryo develop。 Then you can cull the weak ones； if
necessary。”
“Kill them？”
“Cull them。 Remove the ones that don't develop properly。”
“But … wouldn't that also kill them？”
He looked at me。 “Leaving an egg you should cull might have disastrous results on the
healthy ones。”
“Why？ Wouldn't it just not hatch？”
He went back to lighting up the egg。 “It might explode and contaminate the other eggs with
bacteria。”
Explode！ Between mushy chick disease； exploding eggs； and culling； this project was turning
out to be the worst！ Then my father said； “Look
here； Julianna。 You can see the embryo。” He held the flashlight and egg out so I could see。
I looked inside and he said； “See the dark spot there？ In the middle？ With all the veins
leading to it？”
“The thing that looks like a bean？”
“That's it！”
Suddenly it felt real。 This egg was alive。 I quickly checked the rest of the group。 There were
little bean babies in all of them！ Surely they had to
live。 Surely they would all make it！
“Dad？ Can I take the incubator inside？ It might get too cold out here at night； don't you
think？”
“I was going to suggest the same thing。 Why don't you prop open the door？ I'll carry it for
you。”
For the next two weeks I was pletely consumed with the growing of chicks。 I labeled the
eggs A； B； C； D； E； and F； but before long they had
names； too： Abby； Bonnie； Clyde； Dexter； Eunice； and Florence。 Every day I weighed them；
candled them； and turned them。 I even thought it might
be good for them to hear some clucking； so for a while I did that； too； but clucking is tiring！ It
was much easier to hum around my quiet little flock； so I
did that； instead。 Soon I was humming without even thinking about it； because when I was
around my eggs； I was happy。
……… Page 32………
I read The Beginner's Guide to Raising Chickens cover to cover twice。 For my project I
drew diagrams of the various stages of an embryo's
development； I made a giant chicken poster； I graphed the daily fluctuations in temperature
and humidity； and I made a line chart documenting the
weight loss of each egg。 On the outside eggs were boring； but I knew what was happening
on the inside！
Then two days before the science fair I was candling Bonnie when I noticed something。 I
called my dad into my room and said； “Look； Dad！ Look
at this！ Is that the heart beating？”
He studied it for a moment； then smiled and said； “Let me get your mother。”
So the three of us crowded around and watched Bonnie's heart beat； and even my mother
had to admit that it was absolutely amazing。
Clyde was the first to pip。 And of course he did it right before I had to leave for school。 His
little beak cracked through； and while I held my breath
and waited； he rested。 And rested。 Finally his beak poked through again； but almost right
away； he rested again。 How could I go to school and just
leave him this way？ What if he needed my help？ Surely this was a valid reason to stay home；
at least for a little while！
My father tried to assure me that hatching out could take all day and that there'd be plenty of
action left after school； but I'd have none of that。 Oh；
no…no…no！ I wanted to see Abby and Bonnie and Clyde and Dexter and Eunice and Florence
e into the world。 Every single one of them。 “I can't
miss the hatch！” I told him。 “Not even a second of it！”
“So take it to school with you；” my mother said。 “Mrs。 Brubeck shouldn't mind。 After all； this
was her idea。”
Sometimes it pays to have a sensible mother。 I'd just set up for the science fair early； that's
what I'd do！ I packed up my entire operation； posters；
charts； and all； and got a ride to school from my mom。
Mrs。 Brubeck didn't mind a bit。 She was so busy helping kids with their projects that I got to
spend nearly the entire day watching the hatch。
Clyde and Bonnie were the first ones out。 It was disappointing at first because they just lay
there all wet and matted； looking exhausted and ugly。
But by the time Abby and Dexter broke out； Bonnie and Clyde were fluffing up； looking for
action。
The last two took forever； but Mrs。 Brubeck insisted that I leave them alone； and that worked
out pretty great because they hatched out during the
fair that night。 My whole family came； and even though Matt and Mike only watched for about
two minutes before they took off to look at some other
demonstration； my mom and dad stuck around for the whole thing。 Mom even picked Bonnie
up and nuzzled her。
That night after it was all over and I was packing up to go home； Mom asked； “So do these
go back to Mrs。 Brubeck now？”
“Do what go back to Mrs。 Brubeck？” I asked her。
“The chicks； Juli。 You're not planning to raise chickens； are you？”
To be honest； I hadn't thought beyond the hatch。 My focus had been strictly on bringing them
into the world。 But she was right—here they were。
Six fluffy little adorable chicks； each of which had a name and； I could already tell； its own
unique personality。
“I…I don't know；” I stammered。 “I'll ask Mrs。 Brubeck。”
I tracked down Mrs。 Brubeck； but I was praying that she didn't want me to give them back to
her friend。 After all； I'd hatched them。 I'd named them。
I'd saved them from mushy chick disease！ These little peepers were mine！
To my relief and my mother's horror； Mrs。 Brubeck said they were indeed mine。 All mine。
“Have fun；” she said； then zipped off to help Heidi
dismantle her exhibit on Bernoulli's law。
……… Page 33………
Mom was quiet the whole way home； and I could tell—she wanted chickens like she wanted
a tractor and a goat。 “Please； Mom？” I whispered as
we parked at the curb。 “Please？”
She covered her face。 “Where are we going to raise chickens； Juli？ Where？”
“In the backyard？” I didn't know what else to suggest。
“What about Champ？”
“They'll get along； Mom。 I'll teach him。 I promise。”
My dad said softly； “They're pretty self…sufficient； Trina。”
But then the boys piped up with； “Champ'll piss 'em to death； Mom；” and suddenly they were
on a roll。 “Yeah！ But you won't even notice 'cause
they're yellow already！” “Whoa！ Yellow Already—cool name。” “Tha