I Am Mother Goose

I’m arch-enemy number 1 with the geese at the moment because I’ve been creeping into their house and stealing their eggs. This isn’t because I fancy eating a giant goose egg for breakfast every day, although apparently the eggs are very rich and quite delicious. Instead I’ve been given full responsibility for the task of incubating the eggs in order to produce some goslings. Ahh! Although I mustn' get too clucky about them, because the intention is they're destined for the plate. Sniff!

When Dick suggested I become surrogate Mother Goose and take charge of egg incubating, I had a faint recollection of some freshly hatched chicks being brought into my primary school many years ago. My class was allowed to watch, and even pick up, the yellow chicks as they pottered around, cheaping and blinking at us under a massive heat lamp. But we were never taught how to incubate eggs in order to produce these fluffy little bundles.

Back in the present at Newhouse Farm, I needed incubating knowledge and I needed it fast. The Strawbridges have an amazing selection of books, from cider pressing to sausage making, and it wasn’t long before I came across the books I required on poultry keeping. Several hours later, after much reading and extensive note taking, I had turned into the egg geek. I started spouting facts to anyone who’d listen to do with automatic turning, candling, and the importance of temperature and humidity control, much to the amusement of Dick and James. Maybe this was officially a sign that I'd left city life behind me, now that I was getting unduly excited about incubating. Or maybe just a sign that I needed to get out more?!

Anyway, most importantly of all I knew that because some of the goose eggs had been stored for nearly 7 days, we needed to incubate them pronto if we stood any chance of seeing them hatch. We already had one incubator at Newhouse Farm, which Brad and Laura had used to hatch a few duck eggs the previous year. It’s not the most impressive looking device in the world: it looks a little bit like someone has stuck 2 pieces of misshapen polystyrene together with an egg rack inside. Without wanting to be rude, I was fearful that this incubator wasn’t going to be up to the job of hatching the goose eggs, which are considerably bigger than duck and hen eggs.

Dick seemed to be getting infected with some of my egg enthusiasm, and after further research and a few phone calls, we made the decision to get another incubator. And this was no ordinary incubator. We had decided to get (drumroll required here) the Brinsea Octagon 20 Advance!!! Wow. This was a lean, mean, egg hatching machine that looked positively space age. What with its digital temperature and humidity control, its auto-turn egg cradle, and bright yellow cylindrical body, how could the goose eggs fail to hatch! All I needed to do now was to figure out how to put the damn thing together.

Some time later, the Octagon 20 Advance was up and running and ready to go. The final task was to prepare the goose eggs. There’s no point putting dirty eggs into an incubator, as dirt can infect them and cause the developing embryo to become diseased and die. So all the eggs needed to be cleaned, and I set to work delicately scrubbing them with a wire wool sponge. 10 eggs later and there was one final egg left to be cleaned, which Dick offered to do. He picked up the egg, started to clean it, and promptly dropped it in the sink. Crack! Oh dear. I’m just glad it wasn’t me who dropped an egg, or I’d never hear the end of it!

10 eggs was still a good number, so Dick and I carefully arranged them in the egg cradle, using special spacers to separate the rows so the eggs would be held nice and snug. After speculating over which eggs might hatch, we decided to write our names on the 2 most recently laid ones, which we’d placed in the prime central space in the cradle. I chose the egg to the left of centre, and Dick chose the one on the right. Then the final moment arrived: we carefully lowered the cradle into the incubator, placed the lid on top, and stood back to admire our handiwork. Just 33 days to go to see whether, after all this effort and anticipation, any of the eggs actually hatch. Keep your fingers crossed that the Holly egg pulls through!

I’m suspecting that not everyone reading this will share my egg enthusiasm, so I’ve skipped the technical geeky details. However if you are interested in being an egg head like me, please read this post: Incubating Tips Part 1 where there's much more detail about how to incubate.

Goose and Egg Extras:

• Apparently geese were the first species of poultry to be domesticated, and have the longest lifespan of 25 years plus. That is, if they don't get eaten first!

• I didn't realise, but the way to check if an egg is fresh is to put it in a jug of water. If it stays flat at the bottom it's very fresh, and if it rises to the top it's off.
  

• I've not just stopped at goose eggs. I've also set up the older polystyrene incubator to attempt to hatch some duck eggs, and a special type of chicken egg called Maran. There's only one Maran hen at Newhouse Farm at the moment, which is an unusual black colour, so Dick is particularly keen to get some more. Fingers crossed they hatch.

• Apparently when ducks and geese hatch, the first thing they see the most of during their first 24 hours they automatically assume is their mother. So if any of the eggs hatch, and I hang around the incubator cooing over them for the first day, I'll end up with a load of little ducklings and goslings following me around thinking I really am Mother Goose! Too cute!

(Duck eggs at the front and Maran chicken eggs at the back. Date of collection written lightly in pencil on the top of the eggs. This polystyrene incubator also has an auto-turn cradle, so there's no need to turn these eggs by hand.)