was in trouble, that was all the excuse she needed for a fast exit.
Lisa cut across the Lakes’ front lawn and banged on the front door. A moment later it was opened by Mrs. Lake. “Lisa, what on earth are you doing here at this hour—”
“Something’s happened to Stevie,” Lisa blurted out, trying to catch her breath. “We were on the phone and it suddenly went dead.”
Concerned, Mrs. Lake and Lisa ran up the stairs to Stevie’s bedroom. Without bothering to knock, they burst into the room.
“Shhh,” Stevie hushed them, and then waved her hand, inviting them to join her.
“Stevie, are you—” Mrs. Lake stopped short at the sight before them.
Stevie was hovering over the incubator, her expression full of awe. One of the eggs was definitely wiggling. Mrs. Lake and Lisa crept up beside Stevie, quietly taking a seat on the carpet beside the incubator to watch.
“How long has it been doing that?” Lisa whispered.
“At least five minutes,” Stevie answered quietly. “It started out with just a little wiggle, and now it won’t sit still.”
“Then it definitely takes after Stevie,” Mrs. Lake teased.
“Do you think it needs any help?” asked Lisa, concerned.
Stevie shook her head. “The instructions said not to touch it unless it gets stuck coming out of the shell.”
Lisa, Stevie, and Mrs. Lake all gasped as a small, thin crack made its way along the top of the shell.
Stevie squealed in delight. “It’s hatching! It’s hatching!”
A moment later Mr. Lake popped his head throughthe bedroom doorway. “I heard the screaming,” he said. “What’s going on up here?”
“One of Stevie’s eggs is hatching,” Lisa answered excitedly.
Intrigued, Mr. Lake entered the room and peered over Mrs. Lake’s shoulder. “Well, look at that,” he said, smiling.
As if just realizing they were missing out on a big event, Stevie’s brothers came pounding up the stairs and burst into the bedroom.
“Are they hatching?” Alex asked loudly.
Stevie quickly put her finger to her lips. “Shushhh! You might scare them.”
Obediently, Alex made his way over to the incubator. He hunched down quietly on the carpet beside Stevie and Lisa. Chad and Michael followed, respectfully keeping silent, their mouths shaped in small o’s as they watched the hairline crack in the egg lengthen.
“Once they’re born,” Stevie explained, “I’ll transfer them to the brooder.” She indicated the brooder that had come in a kit with the eggs. It was a wooden box about two feet long and eighteen inches high. Stevie had carefully mounted two 40-watt lightbulbs to the top of the box at one end. “The heat from the lightbulbs will keep the goslings warm for the first few weeks until they’re able to take care of themselves,” she explained.
In the bottom of the box, Stevie had spread several layers of newspaper, covered with a couple of old bath towels that Mrs. Lake had kindly donated to the Mother Goose Project. The bath towels would provide traction for the newborn goslings so that they wouldn’t slip and hurt themselves. Stevie had read that the wrong type of footing could permanently damage the fragile legs of the newborns.
“How long is this going to ta—” Michael’s sentence was cut short as the eggshell suddenly cracked open at the top and a tiny yellow beak popped out.
“Eyes! I can see eyes,” Lisa whispered excitedly.
The egg wiggled again. The hole in the shell became larger. They could now see that the tiny yellow beak was attached to an equally tiny grayish yellow head. Stevie grasped Lisa’s hand and held on tightly, resisting the urge to reach into the incubator and help the little thing along.
Finally, just before ten o’clock, the first gosling emerged.
“You’re beautiful,” Stevie murmured to the gosling, awed.
“I don’t know if it’s
beautiful
,” Alex said skeptically. “It’s kind of wet and scrawny looking. And it’s gray.”
The gosling took a step, stumbled,
Lisa cut across the Lakes’ front lawn and banged on the front door. A moment later it was opened by Mrs. Lake. “Lisa, what on earth are you doing here at this hour—”
“Something’s happened to Stevie,” Lisa blurted out, trying to catch her breath. “We were on the phone and it suddenly went dead.”
Concerned, Mrs. Lake and Lisa ran up the stairs to Stevie’s bedroom. Without bothering to knock, they burst into the room.
“Shhh,” Stevie hushed them, and then waved her hand, inviting them to join her.
“Stevie, are you—” Mrs. Lake stopped short at the sight before them.
Stevie was hovering over the incubator, her expression full of awe. One of the eggs was definitely wiggling. Mrs. Lake and Lisa crept up beside Stevie, quietly taking a seat on the carpet beside the incubator to watch.
“How long has it been doing that?” Lisa whispered.
“At least five minutes,” Stevie answered quietly. “It started out with just a little wiggle, and now it won’t sit still.”
“Then it definitely takes after Stevie,” Mrs. Lake teased.
“Do you think it needs any help?” asked Lisa, concerned.
Stevie shook her head. “The instructions said not to touch it unless it gets stuck coming out of the shell.”
Lisa, Stevie, and Mrs. Lake all gasped as a small, thin crack made its way along the top of the shell.
Stevie squealed in delight. “It’s hatching! It’s hatching!”
A moment later Mr. Lake popped his head throughthe bedroom doorway. “I heard the screaming,” he said. “What’s going on up here?”
“One of Stevie’s eggs is hatching,” Lisa answered excitedly.
Intrigued, Mr. Lake entered the room and peered over Mrs. Lake’s shoulder. “Well, look at that,” he said, smiling.
As if just realizing they were missing out on a big event, Stevie’s brothers came pounding up the stairs and burst into the bedroom.
“Are they hatching?” Alex asked loudly.
Stevie quickly put her finger to her lips. “Shushhh! You might scare them.”
Obediently, Alex made his way over to the incubator. He hunched down quietly on the carpet beside Stevie and Lisa. Chad and Michael followed, respectfully keeping silent, their mouths shaped in small o’s as they watched the hairline crack in the egg lengthen.
“Once they’re born,” Stevie explained, “I’ll transfer them to the brooder.” She indicated the brooder that had come in a kit with the eggs. It was a wooden box about two feet long and eighteen inches high. Stevie had carefully mounted two 40-watt lightbulbs to the top of the box at one end. “The heat from the lightbulbs will keep the goslings warm for the first few weeks until they’re able to take care of themselves,” she explained.
In the bottom of the box, Stevie had spread several layers of newspaper, covered with a couple of old bath towels that Mrs. Lake had kindly donated to the Mother Goose Project. The bath towels would provide traction for the newborn goslings so that they wouldn’t slip and hurt themselves. Stevie had read that the wrong type of footing could permanently damage the fragile legs of the newborns.
“How long is this going to ta—” Michael’s sentence was cut short as the eggshell suddenly cracked open at the top and a tiny yellow beak popped out.
“Eyes! I can see eyes,” Lisa whispered excitedly.
The egg wiggled again. The hole in the shell became larger. They could now see that the tiny yellow beak was attached to an equally tiny grayish yellow head. Stevie grasped Lisa’s hand and held on tightly, resisting the urge to reach into the incubator and help the little thing along.
Finally, just before ten o’clock, the first gosling emerged.
“You’re beautiful,” Stevie murmured to the gosling, awed.
“I don’t know if it’s
beautiful
,” Alex said skeptically. “It’s kind of wet and scrawny looking. And it’s gray.”
The gosling took a step, stumbled,
Similar Books
