Those people who occasionally throw me the “childless” adjective as if it is some kind of insult, as if obeying the orders of evolution is better than anything else (and as if I’m past doing so), can have a field day now, as I’m excitedly preparing to show you my first baby pictures of my goslings.
They’re cute (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). Personally I think they’re as good at it as kittens.
The two on the left hand side (well, centre and left) are 7 days old. These pictures surprise me because the other two were hatched yesterday (they’re on their second day) and in real life are maybe half the size of the older goslings, but here they all look the same size.
I’m pretty sure the top centre bird is a gander. It’s been larger than its mate (who hatched first) since the day they fluffed out. and its fuzz is slightly coarser than hers. It’s a nice, chilled out gander, very unlike its chosen life partner, who is a typical goose, a gobby drama queen.
You can see her tucked up against him. He’s mine, she’s saying. I’ve just rehomed the two younger birds in with the older ones, to avoid today’s new arrivals being trampled or suffocated by stronger birds. Her reaction was to make a lot of noise, skitter away from everything at top speed, and sulk in the water dish until she was shooed out (it’s not really good for goslings to get thoroughly wet as they aren’t waterproof until they get their feathers). What a prima donna.
These are today’s new arrivals at the top of the picture plus yesterday’s single hatching bird at the bottom. That one was a bit wobbly for the first 12 hours, didn’t seem sure what to do with food. It’s now as sure of itself as any goose. I left it in with the newly-hatched pair so that it could show them where to drink and eat. You can see by its troubled look and it facing the opposite way to the others, that it doesn’t like replacing its mates with these two. It’ll get used to them, silly goose. It’s weird having one alone, since they seem to hatch in pairs, but I’m guessing its mate is the one which is stinking the incubator out.
Call me a coward, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to open the unhatched eggs. I don’t want to know what’s in there. Fascinating though embryos can be, I don’t want to see anything terrifying or weird, or sad. The eggs didn’t hatch. That’s enough for me.