The first quail to ever hatch here was a jumbo wild type, from eggs gathered from my own covey. A rooster. His coloring is wonderful, and his temperament, even more wonderful. Healthy as could be, and the hens picked him. This was when I had a walk-in, pallet aviary. Before bird flu.
I digress.
That rooster is much older now, slightly less bold, and has the tiniest age-related waddle. All I expect of him is that he live the rest of his life comfortably, eating treats and cuddling with the other quail.
Expectation is one thing. Hope is another. I had decided to do a spur-of-the-moment, late season hatch of birds from two different pens. There were eggs from a favorite hen that died of age or related genetics, and eggs from a couple of other older and favorite hens. Keeping healthy and good-natured lines going is important.
So I did a rolling hatch. Eggs from the original rooster’s hens went in about a week after the others. On two different days. I didn’t truly expect these very few eggs to hatch.
One hatched this morning, right on time.
The wait continues.
