I sometimes refer to myself as a chicken mom, and I can now extend that naming protocol to proud chicken grandma. Last month, we witnessed the first hatching of eggs from our own hens. The two-fold process was filled with waiting, impatience, worry, a little sadness, and finally the tiny peeps of baby chicks.
For our part, Bryon filled his homemade incubator (styrofoam cooler, lightbulb, and thermostat) with a dozen assorted eggs from our ladies, fertilized by our rooster Merle. Meanwhile, our friends at Sadlon Family Farm one road over offered us space in their professional incubator. We transferred another dozen eggs to them a couple days after we started our journey.
The routine was the same every day for almost three weeks: Bryon rotated the eggs 3-5 times daily, always checking the temperature and humidity, as each opening causes fluctuations. Real incubators automatically turn the eggs, allowing for more consistent conditions. Towards the end of the cycle, we left the eggs alone to let the chicks sort out their escape plan…then waited to hear the magic chirps of baby beaks poking their way into the world.
On Friday, September 4th, we got good news from our neighbors that four chicks had hatched, soon followed by two more. Their timeline was shorter than ours, perhaps due to better incubator quality. Our eggs began pipping (barely cracking through shell) late Friday evening. My dreams were chaotic that night, and Bryon went to check on the eggs a couple times with no advancements. The next morning while I was doing my regular chores, Bryon discovered one chick had hatched but didn’t make it. Its head had slipped through the wire rack into the water below, so Bryon added more solid flooring to prevent that happening again. By the end of the day, we had four chirping chicks, making a total of ten.
Some of the new babies at the end of Day One
When baby chicks first break out of their shells, they have no need for food or water, having absorbed nutrients from the yolk just before hatching. Saturday evening, Bryon and I moved all the chicks to their new home, a brooder warmed to 95 degrees. We provided chick food and water dishes filled with marbles to avoid accidental drownings. Then I gently dipped each baby beak into the water, so they knew what to do.
We decided on two brooders, separating out the younger chicks, plus one from the other batch that had a health issue. Two of the chicks had curled feet, so we made them little “shoes” out of cardboard and tape to keep their toes properly spaced. It seemed they both had spraddle/splayed legs, so we created little splints to keep their legs closer together. We also added brewer’s yeast, high in B-complex vitamins, to their water.
House, before we took off his shoe
While one of the chicks improved in a few days, the other never did. Further examination indicated the problem seemed more like a broken leg. We took off the shoe, as it was preventing the chick from keeping his balance while hopping around on one foot. So far, House seems to be getting by okay, but we know this could quickly change as the chickens get older. They could very well go after him for being weaker. Plus, he will likely have issues with getting into the coop, roosting, etc. (We also know it’s a bad idea to name roosters, but we needed a way to distinguish the one with the bad leg, and we’ve been watching the TV show House lately.)
The six pack at one month old
Right now, the chicks are about a month old. Their feathers are starting to develop more fully, and Merle’s influence can be seen in the frizziness of the feathers. Our rooster is part Easter Egger and part Crested Cream Legbar, which offers auto sex linking, or signs at birth whether a chick is male or female. Hence, knowing that House was a he.
We are hoping to move the chicks into a protected home outside next week, weather dependent. Once chickens grow up, it’s easy to forget how quickly babies can make an absolute mess of the brooder. All you remember is the image and softness of sweet, fluffy chicks...until you have to change their water six times a day from shavings being kicked into it. Or watching more food wasted than eaten, since it gets repeatedly knocked out of the dish and cakes together from the sloshing water.
Knowing that we have at least five roosters, one of whom is injured, we will have to figure out our plan as they age. No one needs six roosters — that many males make it more likely for aggression or wearing out the hens. There are local poultry auctions and other options, but we’ll get decide on that path once it gets closer.
In the meantime, we celebrate our first experience breeding animals from our own stock and take note of lessons learned for the next time.
Little cannibals going crazy over a hard-boiled egg!