A small, black chick with a crossed beak stared up at me, it's eyes green. Then it stumbled and fell on my mom's palm.
"Aww! What's wrong with it?" I asked, petting it's head.
"I'm not sure. I'll look it up," she replied, gently handing me the deformed chick. I cradled him and watched a movie while holding him.
After some research, my mom came back to sit with me.
"It's something called Scissor Beak or Crossed Beak. It can either be genetic or be caused by an injury. This chick will probably die, Esme.. but I'm willing to give it a shot." She smiled gently.
I caressed the small chick's head and back. "I'll name it Skizzor." It shivered and I rubbed it ever so gently with a towel. He gave a raspy chirp. Then he gave another one.. wait.
He wasn't moving its beak. I looked at the incubator. There was another pip! But this one was similar to Skizzor. Or what it might have been like if we had seen the chick before it had been done with the oval hole. I ran over to it.
"Mommy!" She stood up and walked over, peering in. She reached in and picked the egg up. She got the scissors she had used for Skizzor's egg and started to gently pick at the shell.