Fiction
Only one of the chicks, which must have been near the end of its stay in the incubator, was moving confidently about, pecking at the others. That upset the girls, while some boys hooted. Mostly, the dome was occupied by eggs in various stages of cracking. Chicks don’t just hatch out instantly as we’ve been led to expect by cartoons and TV. You can spend forever watching an egg with a small star-shaped crack, or even one with a fair-sized hole, before the unseen beak pecks again. Labour is labour is labour. So no cute yellow Easter chicks leaping fluff-feathered from split shells in a burst of light and cheep-cheeping to beat the clock. Besides which, the light at even the most minuscule crack would be flooding into the shell. The inaction didn’t disappoint the kids at all, who were delighted to share the suspenseful delays and surprising pecks.
I smiled down at Shawn, who wasn’t there.
