There is no way anyone in Ragnorak could have missed the announcement. It was the talk of adventures everywhere for months. The ability to breed and own chocobos was being entrusted to us. Rumors where flying around about the ability to race these birds and call them from anywhere to give us a ride when needed. No longer would there be a need to rent whatever ugly beast was available the stables. Now we could own our own brilliantly colored bird. Blue, green, black, unknown possibilities to be uncovered.
I was no exception to the majority. I was beside myself with anticipation. I bought a chocobo egg in Jeuno months before the official start day. There were three to choose from and I couldn’t decide so I bought them all just in case. Thank goodness they seem to be self preserving or my mog house would have smelled awful.
When the day finally arrived I raced to the chocobo stables in San d’Oria. I could hardly wait to see what would come out of that egg. I pushed through the crowds and shoved my carefully selected egg into the care takers hands.
Then I watched, and checked, and even tapped the shell…. Nothing happened. That’s when I found out the bad news. It could take days to hatch a chocobo.
Daily I came to check the bird but in my heart I was ready to make an omelet out of it. There is only so many times you can hear, “It looks like something wants out,” before you stop believing. It was a huge hassle to come back every day to see the uninteresting thing. But of course everyone said I had to go show the little guy love daily so he would hatch.
… Yeah. Sure…
Just when I was about to give up on the talentless bird who refused to hatch I got a surprise.
“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” the caretaker told me. Then I saw her, an adorable little yellow fluff with huge eyes and a large rounded beak. I was smitten. It squawked and flapped its fluffy down covered wings at me as if it knew I was the one tapping on it’s shell all this time and it was glad to see me.
Now my head was full of excitement and questions. This little chick needed a name. How do I name her when I don’t know her color? What if she’s a dud yellow? Will I still love her? Would she be a racing champion? I’m I the racing chocobo type? What if my lack of knowledge ruined this hopeful chick’s chances?
The tiny chick squawked at me again and I realized it didn’t matter. I already adored the little fuzz ball if she was the greatest champion in ages or a common gangly backyard pet.