Sometimes we get so involved with our parrots that we "farmers of pretty chickens" forget to take a break. After three years of non-stop feeding, cleaning, and other birdkeeping chores, it was time for a much-needed vacation. The only way that I could really enjoy a change of scenery was to take my birds along, so I packed up the eclectus gypsy caravan and left the steam oven called South Florida in July for the cool mountains of North Carolina. Once there, the birds and I enjoyed the refreshing weather and the beauty of the hills for a month that flew by faster than an unclipped eclectus!

All too soon, it was time to return to Florida. Just as a precaution, after I put the birds in their travel cages for the trip home, I checked the nestboxes and discovered that my favorite eclectus hen Isis had laid an egg during the night. She and her mate Kiwi, the patriarch of my aviaries, are very bonded so I knew that the egg was likely to be fertile and I didn't have the heart to throw it out. Instead, I put together a makeshift waterbed of a ziploc bag with water and placed it in a plastic bowl. Then I made a "nest" of tissues and placed the egg on the "waterbed". It rode beside me for the two-day trip. Since fertile parrot eggs will remain viable for five days before incubation begins, I thought that the egg had a slight chance of hatching if Isis would accept it in her regular nestbox when we got home and if the motion of the car ride did not kill it.

For two days, the little egg bounced along as we journeyed homeward. I carefully carried it in and out of the motel room when we stopped overnight. The only close call happened when I had the car checked out, and the mechanic started to jump into the front seat to start the car engine. Just before he was about to squish the egg, I yelled, "Watch out! Don't sit on the parrot egg!" Then and there, the mechanic decided that MamaBird had surely cracked her shell. He gave me a strange look and waited patiently while I removed the egg. My car was packed with travel cages full of eclectus parrots who were talking loudly as he got in to start the car. Just as the conversation stops at a restaurant table when the waiter appears, the birds abruptly stopped talking when the mechanic invaded their space. I told him that the birds must have been talking about HIM. He didn't know whether or not I was serious, so he managed a half smile as the birds silently stared at the intruder. I can only imagine what he told his family at the dinner table that evening about the traveling parrot family! The remainder of the trip was uneventful.

After the long journey, the first thing I did when we arrived home was to take the well-traveled egg and place it in Isis' nestbox. Then I placed her in the aviary. She ran for the nestbox, as usual, and took a look inside. She turned and looked at me as if to say, "Hey! There's my missing egg!" and carefully climbed down into her nest and started warming up her long-lost treasure. There are many parrot species that would not be so forgiving of human interference in their breeding cycle, but Isis never missed a beat--another tribute to the wonderfully calm eclectus nature!

After a week, I candled the egg, expecting it to be clear. Could it be? Was I really seeing spidery red veins and a tell tale dark spot? Or.....was it only wishful thinking on my part? I would wait for a few days and check again. On the second candling, it really did appear that the egg was developing normally, but still I was afraid to get my hopes up. Every few days, I would find myself compelled to climb the ladder with my mag light for another peek, feeling sure that something would go wrong.

At three weeks, I climbed the ladder, opened the nestbox door, and my heart stopped! There was a hole in the egg! Sometimes when the parents see a hawk overhead or hear the neighborhood cats fighting, they will dive into the nestbox. Obviously the egg had suffered yet another trauma. With a heavy heart, I took the egg indoors for a closer look and discovered that although there was a match-head-sized hole in the outer shell, the inner membrane was intact! Elmer's glue to the rescue! I quickly patched the egg and returned it to the nest, hoping that Isis would not pick at the repair job and that the egg had not been chilled. Isis resumed her job of incubating her "egg of many challenges."

Fearing the worst, I expected development to cease from the blow that had broken the shell. But each time I candled it, the egg appeared to be developing nicely. Dare I hope? On the twenty sixth day, drawdown was apparent. Day twenty-seven found the chick's head in the air cell. On the twenty-eighth day, when it was due to hatch, the chick had pipped almost all the way around the egg, just as it should. Still I would not allow myself to expect a normal hatch and a normal chick.

Nightfall came on day twenty-eight, and I went out to give the parent birds their warm bedtime snack--and then I heard it--the unmistakable sound of a newly hatched chick calling for its mom! Never have I been so elated about an eclectus hatch, not even about my very first chick! I would have been so guilt-ridden if this baby that should live for half a century had died because of my vacation trip, but Lady Luck was with us and Isis managed in spite of all to hatch a beautiful pink and healthy looking baby! What else could we call such a valiant little spirit, so determined to survive that it made it in spite of a rocky beginning and a journey of a thousand miles? Gulliver is our miracle baby!