Hi, my name is Anne and I am a hatchaholic. I am also a birdaholic. I have fallen off the wagon, again, this year.
I tried "fake it 'til you make it" and "easy does it" but it hasn't taken yet.
I do recognize I have a problem, however.
And, one day, I intend to do something about it.
I grew up in an animalholic household, so I never realized that it was aberrant behaviour; it seemed so normal.
My parents worked in Manhatten, NYC, where I was born. My first pet was a baby alligator when I was three (back in 1962).
(In retrospect, it probably was probably a caiman, not an alligator, but I digress. Often.) My Dad brought her home as a birthday gift. I was immediately smitten, (and almost immediately bitten).
I named her Trudy.
We lived in an apartment (as most people in NYC). Dad kept her in the bathtub; not an optimal choice for alligator living quarters in NYC (their preferred habitat, as you know, is the sewer system below the city).
This just gives you an idea of how deeply-set the animalholism was in our household, and I was immersed in it nearly from birth.
We moved to a house in NJ that had an acre of land.
Trudy did not accompany us, alas, she was returned to the petshop, having bitten my father one too many times.
And there, in Eatontown, NJ, the animalholism began in earnest.
The "elephant in the living room" that most people talk about with addiction was not just literal---although it was more along the lines of: "the raccoon in the living room; the possom in the living room; or the nest of baby robins that fell out of a tree and have to be fed 20 times a day in the living room. "
When I was 8, my mother, in a well-meaning, but obviously misguided state of mind, bought an assortment of Cochin, Houdon,and Polish chicks for me and my sister from Allen Hatchery.
The day they arrived, cheeping in their little box, was the day I discovered my drug of choice; and it's been a life-long battle to escape the clutches (no pun intended) of birdaholism.
There may be a genetic predisposition; I understand both my grandmothers had this problem, as well as my immediate family members.
I was actually doing fairly well until two years ago.
I only had my blue and gold macaw, who is more like a person than a bird; and my show Stafford canary collection, which, as I explained ad nauseum to my husband, is a business, not a hobby (or a habit. . . ).
But then my mother, who is now living with us at age 92, gave me a GQH cabinet incubator for my birthday two years ago.
Well, you don't want to hurt someone's feelings and not use the gift they gave you, right?
So, you can imagine what happened. I am currently bird-rich, and as of yesterday, the incubator is filled to capacity---again.
I must say it works marvelously at hatching chicks, far better than even the old GQH Hovabator with the automatic turner I had in my teens.
You can understand, though, can't you, why it's not my fault I fell off the wagon?
I live with Enablers, and I certainly can't oust them from my house. And it does seem to make them happy to enable me. But I know I have a problem.
I found your site and figured I better join and introduce myself, probably get a sponser who I can call when I get the urge to buy an auction on Ebay and will stop me before I start coveting more eggs.
I'm looking forward to getting to know you all; I'm sure I have lots to learn and you will help me with my addiction.
Anne
I tried "fake it 'til you make it" and "easy does it" but it hasn't taken yet.
And, one day, I intend to do something about it.
I grew up in an animalholic household, so I never realized that it was aberrant behaviour; it seemed so normal.
My parents worked in Manhatten, NYC, where I was born. My first pet was a baby alligator when I was three (back in 1962).
(In retrospect, it probably was probably a caiman, not an alligator, but I digress. Often.) My Dad brought her home as a birthday gift. I was immediately smitten, (and almost immediately bitten).
I named her Trudy.
We lived in an apartment (as most people in NYC). Dad kept her in the bathtub; not an optimal choice for alligator living quarters in NYC (their preferred habitat, as you know, is the sewer system below the city).
This just gives you an idea of how deeply-set the animalholism was in our household, and I was immersed in it nearly from birth.
We moved to a house in NJ that had an acre of land.
Trudy did not accompany us, alas, she was returned to the petshop, having bitten my father one too many times.
And there, in Eatontown, NJ, the animalholism began in earnest.
The "elephant in the living room" that most people talk about with addiction was not just literal---although it was more along the lines of: "the raccoon in the living room; the possom in the living room; or the nest of baby robins that fell out of a tree and have to be fed 20 times a day in the living room. "
When I was 8, my mother, in a well-meaning, but obviously misguided state of mind, bought an assortment of Cochin, Houdon,and Polish chicks for me and my sister from Allen Hatchery.
The day they arrived, cheeping in their little box, was the day I discovered my drug of choice; and it's been a life-long battle to escape the clutches (no pun intended) of birdaholism.
There may be a genetic predisposition; I understand both my grandmothers had this problem, as well as my immediate family members.
I was actually doing fairly well until two years ago.
I only had my blue and gold macaw, who is more like a person than a bird; and my show Stafford canary collection, which, as I explained ad nauseum to my husband, is a business, not a hobby (or a habit. . . ).
But then my mother, who is now living with us at age 92, gave me a GQH cabinet incubator for my birthday two years ago.
Well, you don't want to hurt someone's feelings and not use the gift they gave you, right?
So, you can imagine what happened. I am currently bird-rich, and as of yesterday, the incubator is filled to capacity---again.
I must say it works marvelously at hatching chicks, far better than even the old GQH Hovabator with the automatic turner I had in my teens.
You can understand, though, can't you, why it's not my fault I fell off the wagon?
I live with Enablers, and I certainly can't oust them from my house. And it does seem to make them happy to enable me. But I know I have a problem.
I found your site and figured I better join and introduce myself, probably get a sponser who I can call when I get the urge to buy an auction on Ebay and will stop me before I start coveting more eggs.
I'm looking forward to getting to know you all; I'm sure I have lots to learn and you will help me with my addiction.
Anne
