While examining the contents of the eggs, I found one chick still alive but clearly unable to break free of the shell.  It hadn't even pecked a tiny hole in the shell.  It's the ".5" I mentioned before.  I removed the shell and don't think I broke any blood vessels, but I've never helped a chick during hatching that survived.  It's still in the incubator drying off.  If it makes it, I'll name it Point Five.

The most interesting aspect of this hatch has been watching my partner, George, deal with it.  He's a theater and film professor and doesn't cope well with anything that might die, and chicks are notorious for their mortality rate around hatch time. The experience has forced him to confront his issues with my career as a farmer.  He told me it boils down to the immediacy of life and death for a farmer.  I'm very used to it, but most civilized people rarely face it.  He's been painfully indifferent during the 21 days of incubation, but he's really taken to these new chicks.  I even promised that these chicks could be pets rather than livestock....or at least working pets.  I'm never allowed to cook any of these guys for dinner,  and as tame as they will be, I'm sure they have a great future ahead of them as farm ambassadors.   

So I've gotten thru the month of confining the hens to control the genetics, as well as the 3 weeks of monitoring and turning eggs, and we have survived the hatch.   I'm eggs-hausted.  I think I'll go take a nap in my reclining chair with a couple of chicks sleeping on my belly.