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making my own neoprene or demonstrating the various scientific applications of gear ratios。
But the ball was in motion； and Mrs。 Brubeck would have no more discussion about it。 She
pulled The Beginner's Guide to Raising Chickens
from her bookshelf and said； “Read the section on artificial incubation and set yourself up
tonight。 I'll get you an egg tomorrow。”
“But …”
“Don't worry so much； Juli；” she said。 “We do this every year； and it's always one of the best
projects at the fair。”
I said； “But…；” but she was gone。 Off to put an end to some other student's battle with
indecision。
That night I was more worried than ever。 I'd read the chapter on incubation at least four times
and was still confused about where to start。 I didn't
happen to have an old aquarium lying around！ We didn't happen to have an incubation
thermometer！ Would a deep…fry model work？
I was supposed to control humidity； too； or horrible things would happen to the chick。 Too dry
and the chick couldn't peck out； too wet and it would
die of mushy chick disease。 Mushy chick disease？！
My mother； being the sensible person that she is； told me to tell Mrs。 Brubeck that I simply
wouldn't be hatching a chick。 “Have you considered
growing beans？” she asked me。
My father； however； understood that you can't refuse to do your teacher's assignment； and
he promised to help。 “An incubator's not difficult to
build。 We'll make one after dinner。”
How my father knows exactly where things are in our garage is one of the wonders of the
universe。 How he knew about incubators； however； was
revealed to me while he was drilling a one…inch hole in an old scrap of Plexiglas。 “I raised a
duck from an egg when I was in high school。” He
grinned at me。 “Science fair project。”
“A duck？”
“Yes； but the principle is the same for all poultry。 Keep the temperature constant and the
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 thi