Fleegle nudges me awake with his cold wet nose. “It’s hatching, Raud, the egg under my pillow is hatching.”
“What?” I say, reaching for the light. “That’s impossible.”
“I knew getting you to switch to free range eggs would do the trick.”
At three something in the morning, Fleegle and I stare captivated at the brown egg as little bits of shell come loose from it until a tiny beak appears through a small hole, followed by a feathered head.
“It’s clear the egg comes before the chicken,” Fleegle says as the chick climbs free from its shell and waddles to Fleegle for his warmth. He nuzzles it against his belly. “I bet it’s hungry. What do chickens eat?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve been too busy eating them.”
Fleegle gives me a look. “Well, you better find out. It’s almost time for breakfast and what is the chicken going to think if on its first day here you’ve got nothing for him to eat? How about my kibble? Do you think it would like that? I sure like it.”