Well, Goosey is back in the gang, a little dazed, a bit distant, but she’s hanging out with them as they trail round Camp interfering with everything and commenting constantly.
The trailer of hatchings and death is now mucked out and closed up. And a hole under the lamb shed was loud with squeaks last night. Think we know where minky is nesting. I am more forgiving today. It was our responsibility to keep our goslings safe and we didn’t. Maybe if we’d chickenwired the air slots in the trailer … Who knows. We know for next time.
All eyes are resting on the 19 eggs in mum and dad’s garage. There’s a thin bad smell coming from them, but it isn’t very strong. Not all of them will have been fertile and there aren’t any with nodules forming or leaking, so we’ve just got one week to wait and hope. It will be all about luck, because it’s so complex to hatch eggs from a human’s point of view. What’s totally natural for a goose is really hard for us.
Shame we can’t get Redleg to sit on a nest. We’ve still got a few eggs appearing. Stupid hope.