A Touch of Frost — Hindsight, Chapter 4, Part 3

That nice weather at the beginning of April seemed like a dream now

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Hindsight by Neil Shooter (photo by author)

April 2020.

Will stood at the kitchen sink, looking out of the little window at the frost while he did the first dishes of the day.

That couple of weeks of nice weather at the beginning of April seemed like a dream now. They’d even put the hose out on the back garden to water the cabbages and broccolis they’d planted: a mistake. The current cold spell was really only a seasonal spell. The common wisdom in these parts, and even in Toronto, was not to put stuff out before the May Two-Four weekend, the traditional cut-off for killing frosts.

And here they were a full month before that. It made complete sense to have frosts. They just hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility of it. They had needed to be outside, to be nurturing, to be working toward something tangible, to be out of the house and away from the news.

Speaking of nurturing, it was Day Nineteen and they should have locked down the incubator yesterday evening.

“I think we’re too late,” Juss said when he went into the living room.

“What?”

“Listen.”

There was a cheep-cheep sound. Quite a loud one.

“It’s pipped already? But it’s early!”

“If it has, then we have to work fast. I have to get the middle plate out of the incubator and get all the eggs back in within a minute or so. Longer than that and we might lose one. And I’ll get a moist tissue for any that have pipped, so they don’t dry out.” If the inner membrane of the shell dried out too much, it would shrink-wrap the chick. Just one more way you could lose them.

When he’d brought a damp tissue, she got ready to lift the lid.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” She lifted.

He reached forward with the wet tissue. But there was a chick! “Put it down, there’s a chick!”

“What?” She obeyed. “A chick? How can there be a chick?”

“I don’t know, but there is. It’s an early one. You’ve hit the jackpot.”

“You’d better plug in the brooder, and get some food and water ready. He has to be moved. At least the tote is ready for him.”

“Or her.” It made no sense to him how she picked a gender based on nothing, and then later seemed to find evidence that backed up her initial call.

She shrugged. They gave the brooder plate a few minutes to warm up, and when she lifted again, he grabbed the chick, cupping it in his hands so it didn’t get chilled. A white Silkie.

Will touched its tiny beak to the water in the waterer, and then to the crumble in the little tray, and tucked the chick under the brooder plate. “That should do the trick, right?”

She nodded. “Back to where we were. Look for pips. I’ll give you about three seconds.”

“Okay.”

She lifted, and he looked and looked. And then she put the lid down again.

“I think we’re clear.”

“Really? One two days early, and the rest keeping to the proper schedule? All right. So the next step is that I’ll lift the lid, put it down, and then I’ll get the whole top level of plastic out, along with the frame, and the eggs still in it. Then you’ll move the eggs around the edge of the incubator, and put the lid back on. Okay?”

“Got it.”

Juss had trouble getting the plate out with the eggs and frame still on it.

“Maybe we should have put the eggs in a tupperware or something?”

“Too late now. Almost got it.”

And then she had, and he quickly arranged the remaining ten eggs with the air sacs up, around the perimeter of the lower level of the incubator. Six were blue Easter Egger eggs, and the other four were small, cream-coloured Silkie eggs. They’d drawn the line of air at the last candling a few days before, and each egg had been numbered and logged from the beginning.

As he moved the last Silkie egg into the incubator, he remembered something that Juss seemed to have forgotten. The last Silkie egg had gone in two days later than the others, and so was going into lockdown early. He put the lid on, and Juss handed him the things she’d been holding. He put them in the laundry sink to wash in a minute, but mentioned his concern.

“I know. Can’t be helped though. We only have one incubator. It might not be viable anyway.”

Juss had everything under control, of course.

*

When he heard the truck stop at the end of the driveway, Will hurried to get his jacket on, to meet the guy out front. “Feed delivery is here!” he called.

There was no reply. Where was she? She’d figure it out.

The pickup truck had a little trailer on the back, and the driver reversed down the driveway expertly.

The guy who got out of the driver's side said, “Morning!”

Will recognized it was the same guy who had loaded their trunk in February. “Morning!”

“Just along the side here?”

“Please.”

The guy started moving the sacks of layer, grower, chick starter, and chicken scratch, out from the bed of the trailer.

“How’re things in the store?” Will was trying to make conversation.

“Oh, fine.”

“Everyone healthy?” Was that too obvious a question?

“Oh yeah, there’s no corona around here.”

“No? Good. Glad I’m not in the city.” He meant Toronto.

“Uh huh.”

“I miss that warm spell, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah. That was nice.”

“Bit cold today.”

“Oh I don’t mind the cold, eh?”

“No wind though. Could be worse.”

“We’re Canadian. Used to bein’ out in the cold, eh?”

“Yeah.” Will was ready to go back in. “Freezing rain later.”

“Uh huh, hopin’ to get my deliveries done before it starts.”

“I was hoping to get the trees in the ground, but I guess it’ll have to wait.” The last few fruit trees were sitting next to where the sacks of feed were going.

“Bit early for planting, eh?”

“I guess. We wanted to get a head start, though.”

“Still gonna get some frosts though, eh?”

“I guess so. My cabbages are covered in plastic.”

“Cabbages, eh? Well, good luck to ya.”

“Thanks.”

“Might make it, but it’s early.”

Will cast about for something to say, as the guy finished with the stuff in the trailer, and moved to the back of the pickup for the last few sacks. “Thanks for bringing all this.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for not helping. You know .…”

“Yeah.”

“Want to limit my exposure.”

“Sure. ‘Spect we’ll all get it, sooner or later.”

Will didn’t think he seemed very concerned. And as an old guy, he should be, based on the statistics. Why was it that country folk seemed so quick to down-play such risks? At least the guy was active, though. Maybe that would help him? “Yeah,” Will said.

“You want the receipt?” The guy had finished.

“Uh, put it under one of the sacks, please.”

“Sure. Have a nice day, sir.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Will hurried back inside.

Juss was waiting for him with a cup of tea. “Everything okay?”

“Awkward.” Will laughed. “Doesn’t seem at all concerned about getting infected.”

Juss shrugged. “That’s up to him.”

“I guess so. But if people are complacent now, thinking it is far away and they are safe from it, when it does come it will run rampant, and everyone will get sick. It’ll overload the health system. And they don’t get that.” He meant the locals.

“It’s easy for it to seem far away, though.”

“I guess.” Will always felt a ripple of annoyance with people who saw the world differently. He couldn’t help it.

Juss patted him on the shoulder, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

*

The next day was a little milder, and Will made a point of going out to dig.

The berry bushes were already in the ground. Each type was intended to be the start of a line that would be expanded in the future by transplanted feeder roots, or maybe even cuttings. The only berries not in the ground were the strawberries, which had come as a burlap-bundle of roots and sprouts. He wanted to wait for warmer weather before putting them out.

He was embarrassed how much hard work was involved in digging a hole for a tree. He’d dug some holes, a few a day, before the warm spell dried up, but since they’d been delivered, he’d struggled to get one tree in the ground each day. The weather. His back. These sounded like an old man’s excuses. And that pissed him off, and made him work harder at it.

He’d begun a line along the southern property line. He wanted them to form some kind of barrier or privacy shield. When he looked out across the slope, and stood there watching the cars go by on the main road, he felt exposed. It was silly, considering how exposed he’d actually been in the city, with the neighbours knowing everything that happened, hearing everything, and there being no chance of getting real distance from anyone. But here, after just a few months away from people, and six weeks of lockdown, he realized how much he liked the solitude, and the privacy, and that he didn’t mind being away from people, or apart from civilization, at all. In fact, he was quite happy to retreat further, to wait this thing out, and focus on his garden, his chickens, his wife, and his own well-being. These were the things that were most important to him. But if he could have just a little more privacy, a little more sense of seclusion, that would be great.

He was aware of the shortcomings of his idea. It would be years, for example, until the trees grew enough to amount to anything resembling a privacy shield.

If the main road could be a little less busy, he’d feel better. They’d noticed in March how the traffic had dropped off. He knew that people had been staying home more. But there were still too many people driving around. Where were they all going with the shops closed? Surely they weren’t all essential workers?

With a sigh, he got the shovel into the ground.

*

Will was excited about it being Day Twenty-One, after the pips they’d seen last night. Today ought to be a busy day. He was disappointed, though, when he peered through the clear plastic of the incubator and there was no change. Out of the ten remaining eggs, at least one should have hatched by now.

He felt bad that the first batch were in the garage, but they had a brooder plate to huddle under, and the cage was wrapped in clear plastic so they weren’t in any breeze. Whenever he went to feed them, they seemed resentful and very sorry for whatever they had done wrong to be punished like this. But they were warm enough, and healthy, so he wasn’t really worried. They were lucky the second brooder plate had come last week. Just in the nick of time. The box still sat in quarantine.

Jackpot was doing well in the clear plastic tote, but seemed a bit sad to be all by himself. He was very noisy. He kept coming to the closest corner and pleading with Will or Juss for attention. Juss was a pushover, and spent hours with him snuggled in a hand towel, which did indeed seem to make the little guy feel better. Soon he’d have company, all being well.

Somehow Juss was still certain Jackpot was a rooster.

“But he’s sitting with you, snuggling all this time. You said that means ‘hen’.”

“He’s also alone, so maybe that outweighs his manly standoffishness?”

Will left that one alone.

*

Will came in from putting the last tree in the ground, and sat sullenly in the kitchen.

Juss came to him with Jackpot in her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Cold and tired. That’s all. Hope the frost hasn’t damaged any of them.”

“Kettle?”

“No. I just want to sit for a bit.”

“Okay. Is that all?”

He laughed. “My butt cheeks are sore. Too much leg work. I’m not used to it.”

Concern melted away from her face. “When you feel like getting up, come and see the new arrivals.”

He looked up at her. “I always miss it!”

“Not always. One’s starting to zip. One of the Silkies.”

He clambered to his feet and followed her to the incubator bench. “Two brown chicks.” Great. How would he tell these ones apart?

“I don’t know if you can see,” she said, “but one of them has a bit of fluff on her head, like her Silkie father, and the other has fluff on her cheeks, like her Easter Egger mother.”

“Girls?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Where’s the zipper?”

“They keep kicking it.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Should we take the chicks out?”

“Not until the new chick is out and dried off. Then we can risk it, and let things be a bit more settled for the rest of the eggs.”

“I thought the chicks helped to encourage the other eggs to hatch?”

“They do. They can. But Jackpot is on his own, as well.”

“Hmmm.” There always seemed to be something that Will had forgotten to consider.

*

With the three new chicks transferred to the clear plastic tote, and seemingly fine with Jackpot and the brooder, Will and Juss headed into the garage.

It took both of them to carry the dog crate. Not because it was heavy, just awkward. And they wanted to keep the waterer level so it didn’t spill much.

They carried the cage around to the front, where the afternoon sun heated the sheltered corner of the porch, and then Will went back for the little pet fence and a split cardboard box. The fence kept the three-week-old chicks in a contained area, and the cardboard served as a windbreaker. The chicks were happy as anything in their several square feet sun-trap micro-climate, pecking at the grass, and the soil.

Juss was firm on her assignment of gender: four hens, and three roosters.

Will and Juss sat on the edge of the porch, and reached down to pick up a chick, picking one up, putting it back down, trying to get them used to being handled.

The concrete was cold on his butt, but the sun was soul-food.

After some time playing with the chicks, movement in his peripheral vision made him look up. Pedestrians coming up from the village. A man and a woman. He kept his eye on them as they got closer, and he whispered to Juss, “I think it’s the neighbours.”

Juss didn’t say anything, but she had been watching too.

When the couple reached the end of the driveway, they turned into it. Will tensed up.

The man was portly, with a red baseball cap, and a full white beard. He didn’t look altogether different to Santa Claus. Which made the shorter woman with big glasses and a ready smile seem all the more like Mrs. Claus.

They stopped about four metres away.

“Oh, they have chicks!” The woman nudged her husband.

“Hello!” Will called out, trying to be neighbourly.

“Hi. Nice afternoon! Been a walk into the village!”

“Nice.”

“You recognize us, right? Eric and Karen from next door?”

“Oh yes, of course I do. Haven’t seen you since October, when you came by to welcome us to the neighbourhood.” Will thought about the wind. They weren’t sure how long droplets lasted in the air, or how far they could travel, but a study had suggested that being downwind from someone meant you ought to be more than two meters away from them.

“The curlers,” Juss said, with a smile.

“That’s right. Didn’t see you there, though. You really should try it! Great way to get to know people! Made all the difference for us.” Eric looked over at Karen, and she nodded in agreement.

“You should come over to the house some time, in the summer I guess, maybe things will be more relaxed?” Karen meant the restrictions.

“Maybe,” Juss said. “We’ll see.” It sounded like Juss was referring to the relaxation of restrictions, but Will had a feeling she was politely suggesting that such a visit was unlikely. They weren’t being unsociable. But they weren’t ready to try to make friends either.

“How was the winter? You like the house?” Eric said.

“Yes. Good. That wind comes over the hill though. We didn’t realize how exposed we are.”

“Ah, but that breeze over the hill is nice in the summer!”

“Something to look forward to, then. Warmer days.”

“Well, we won’t keep you. We just wanted to say hi,” Eric said.

“Yes, we saw you were outside. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Karen said.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Will said.

“Yes, thank you. We will,” Juss said.

Eric and Karen looked at each other, and nodded. “Bye!” they both said, and then turned and marched up the driveway. For good measure, they waved as they walked past the mailbox and out of sight.

“Do you think we upset them?” Will asked.

“Maybe. Too bad. We were polite enough. But they should know to keep their distance. Now isn’t the time for hanging out and having dinner parties.”

“We’ve been in the house for six months, and that’s only the second time we’ve seen them. Not bad.”

“A relief.” Juss sighed. “I never used to be like this.”

“I know. Neither did I. That’s life, I guess.”

“Everyone should be wearing masks. Whenever they’re around anyone else.”

“I know.” He also knew why the government had downplayed the usefulness of masks: supplies were short, and health workers had the greater need.

*

Will and Juss sat on the bench next to the incubator two days later, seven young chicks chirping in the tote behind them. In the incubator was one buff-coloured Silkie chick, a late Silkie egg, and two late EE eggs.

“Come on, Ronaldo, kick them—wake them up!” Will had his face close to the machine, trying to see any sign of a pip.

“I think Ronaldo might be a Ronalda,” Juss said.

“Oh?”

“Look at the head. A bit fluffy. Now look at the other Silkies. What do you notice?”

He looked over. “They’re not as fluffy?”

“Yes, but also the three Silkies in the tote are all like each other, and I’m pretty sure that Jack is a rooster, suggesting the others are too, and so this one with the different head hair is a hen.”

“We’ll see when you take her out, I guess.” There was a tiny challenge in his voice.

“Let’s do it then.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He reached to turn off the incubator. The silence it left was surprising. They’d been so used to the sound for so many weeks now. “Ready?”

Juss nodded.

He lifted the incubator lid.

Juss reached in and grabbed the chick, who immediately sat in her hand. Juss looked up at him in triumph.

Will laughed out loud, startling the tiny chick. “Circumstantial. But I suppose you must be right. You always are.”

Juss just smiled. She made the necessary introductions of Ronalda to the other chicks in the tote, and showed her the food and the water. Then they both turned their attention to the old eggs.

Ronalda was the late Silkie egg, added two days after all the rest. The straggler. Which made it almost impossible that these remaining eggs were ever going to hatch.

“I’m going to investigate.” Will meant he was going to crack the eggs to see what level of development there was. When they’d candled, there had been one they weren’t sure about.

“Do it outside.”

“Why?”

“In case they explode.”

“What now?” This was the first he was hearing of this possibility.

“There is a chance that gasses from the rotting chick will make the egg explode when you crack it.”

“Ugh.”

“Showering you in a stinky mess.”

“UGH.”

“Exactly. It’s the kind of smell that stays with you.”

It was thirty years since she’d had any chicken experience, so he believed her on that.

He took the eggs outside, and, luckily, none of them exploded. One egg held a fully developed chick, and Will wondered if they’d killed it by removing it from the incubator, after all. The other two were clearly undeveloped. They’d stopped developing half way through.

And now there were fourteen chicks to distract them from other things.

Thanks for reading!

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