Counting Eggs Before they Hatch!

Every time I incubate eggs, I turn into a 5 year old waiting for Christmas so that I can open presents. I want to know what I’m getting so badly that I can hardly stand myself—let alone others tolerating me as well. I peek in the incubator every chance I get to check the temperature and the humidity and then I fight with the hardest part of all – not being able to pick up and “candle” the eggs to see how many are growing and, if they are developing, whether or not they’re still alive.

Candling is the process of shining a bright light into the shell to see the shadow of what’s going on (or rather growing), on the other side of the shell.

Everything I have read on incubating chicken eggs I’ve read says NOT to touch the eggs at all during the first seven days because the chick’s blood vessels are developing and can easily be damaged if moved too much.

I completely understand that, but there’s just something so fascinating with watching a little black “dot” moving around inside of a chicken egg that I crave that sight almost to the point of insanity. The “dot” of course is the chick’s eye and I’ve found that sometimes when candling you can even see the little bird’s heart beating. It’s just cool.

The first time I put eggs into an incubator was about a year ago and I candled each of the 15 eggs every day for the first 7 days. No surprise, none of these eggs developed and I was frustrated. Then, I got wiser with another clutch and started letting the eggs sit untouched in the incubator for the first 3 days and then candled again every day for a total of 7 days. Once again, no shock, none of those eggs developed.

Thinking I was going to a total failure at trying to be a surrogate chicken mama, I tried one more clutch of around 10 eggs. This time, I didn’t touch the eggs at all during the first 7 days and when I went to candle this group—eureka! There were several developing.

I fought the urge with this group of eggs to candle any of them at all, only did it sparingly during the 21 days of incubation, and I was finally successful at having three chicks hatch. Talk about a proud mama!

Old habits die hard and I tried one more time last year with a final clutch in June. I had 6 eggs in that group and out of the 6, only 1 made it to hatch. That was hard to watch one single chick grow up by himself. I put a plush rooster in with the little fellow to try and take the place of siblings, but it just wasn’t the same. Hopefully that doesn’t happen again.

So, it’s the first of the year and the hatching bug has struck again. I have 14 eggs in the incubator and I haven’t touched them for several days as of this writing. I have to occupy myself when I’m at home to not be tempted to just take a tiny “peek” at them to see which ones are developing. By the time this writing is published, I’ll know how many I have and then I’ll have to fight the urge to continue to peek for the remaining 14 days of the incubation period (it usually takes around 21 days). Wish me luck and wish me patience! I’m a horrible count of eggs before they hatch!

Know What the Flock is About

I’ve been thinking about flocks recently. Well, let me rephrase that – I’m always thinking about flocks, but I’ve been thinking more about the dynamics of flocks as this winter has gone on. I watch my feathered crew mill about outside and the soft sounds they make as they explore their 15’ x 15’ run of which they have all but turned into a barren, dusty landscape (save for the recent snow which actually makes it look better); looking for that random worm or grub which has managed to sneak beyond the chicken wire barricade only to be devoured in a flash of beak. I love listening to one of the three roosters cluck excitedly when a treat is sprinkled around him or he finds a tasty spot of ground – calling his hens to the spot so he can stand back and appear to be the most giving gentleman. Of course, he always has an ulterior motive for bringing the hens close, but the very act of the rooster calling the ladies, and then stepping back from what you know is a delectable treat to allow the females to eat their fill is fascinating to me. A lot of human males could learn a lot from a bird brained rooster.

I watch the flock when I step into the coop at night to check the waterer level, collect eggs and make sure that they have enough food and there aren’t drafts in the coop. Each bird knows their place in the flock and seems to be completely groovy with it. Just like with any family, there are squabbles from time to time, but they are short lived and if the rooster has to step in to break up a chicken fight between two females, you can bet that the two females will cease their “hen pecking” pretty quickly. I’ve also noticed that there seems to be a “Higher Society” in my coop with the hens that roost on the upper wall in the coop. They like to be as close as possible to their “man”, Buddy, and sit like prim and proper little ladies – cooing and softly clucking as they move in close to one another to stay warm.

All of this coop cuddle time doesn’t mean, however, that all the males in the coop are as chivalrous as Buddy and sometimes the hens need a little extra protection to protect the feathers on their backs from the other two males. Knowing this, that’s when I decided on the chicken apron! I was a little worried at first about how the flock would receive a hen with one of these capes on her back, but the flock seems to accept this artsy bird without a second thought. I’m pretty stoked also to be able to tell one hen from the other just by the pattern on her back – maybe I’ll be tempted to leave them on beyond the feathers growing back -- then again, maybe not.

If you’ve been following my antics on Facebook, you know that I recently put 14 eggs from my adult birds into the incubator to hopefully grow some chickens. Once these chicks hatch and grow up, it’s always fun to watch the new flock be accepted into the current flock, even if it is just a tad bit painful to watch at first as the pecking order is established.  Then even once they’re accepted – birds that were raised together tend to continue to stick together even if they’re among a totally different group of birds. It’s just cool and neat how these seemingly brainless birds have the whole social thing all figured out. They know their flock and they know what the flock is about.

In the Beak Midwinter

I play the flute in an area community band and there is a music piece that occasionally makes the repertoire called “In the Bleak Midwinter”. It’s a very moving, melancholy piece and reflects the feeling of icy, bleak winter days. That moment after the lights from the holidays fade and everything is replaced with white, brown and barren views.

As of late, my actions at the farm have felt a lot like that piece. It takes about 5 minutes to get prepared to go out to the coop because I never know what I’m going to find that will cause a 5 minute task to become over 30 minutes. Waterers that need refilled (birds drink a lot in the extreme cold weather), birds that need extra tending, collecting eggs that sometimes are frozen and cracked and working with birds that are just as frustrated because they can’t get out in the yard and search for tidbits amongst the dry grass. It’s a definite mind game.

Flock Block

To help with bird boredom, I purchased a “flock block” for my birds so that they’ve got something to peck at when they’re coop bound. A flock block is a compressed block of seeds that causes the birds to have to work to get at the treats. Hopefully this block will stop some of the overbreeding the roosters have been doing and will just allow them to have something to work for while they’re waiting for the warmer weather to come. Believe it or not, birds actually do get bored and need mental challenges! So much for a bird brain, right? 

I have lost two birds already this year; an olive egger hen and a lavender rooster and are just praying that these are the only ones.  Though my realistic mind says that there might be others if the weather continues the way that it has been. Sadly, I had to put the rooster down on my own and that was probably the hardest thing I’ve had to do since I’ve been at the farm. Anyone who says it’s easy to take a life probably has no heart. I’m not saying that I’m the most compassionate person, but to suddenly realize that you’re the one that took the light from a living thing is something to never be taken lightly. I question my ability to be a good executioner – whether I did it as quickly and effectively as I could. When the bird opens its eyes to look at you before it gives up its spirit – that’s tough.

All is not bleak though in my own little “Beak Winter”. I’ve started to collect eggs from my flock to put into the incubator in the next week or so to hopefully add some chicks to the flock which I have lost and also to increase the number of egg layers I have. It’s amazing how many eggs I need. Eggs for the Brew Master who gives me the grain, eggs for the owner of the brewery, eggs for the biscuits, eggs to sell and eggs to give to people as gifts. Not to mention, I’m ready for the cute factor in having baby chicks. There’s something so warming about having babies in the brooder, nice and toasty warm and fluffy as the winds blow outside and the snow flies. It’s what gives me hope when all seems dead and barren.

As I’ve spoken about so many times since moving to the Farm, I know that I’m reminded constantly to just be patient and this is just another test. If I can make it through this Beak Midwinter, I know that I’ll be rewarded soon with blooming trees, a new garden, more animals and better understanding of what works and what needs reworking. I just have to learn to allow what’s going to happen to happen and accept it no matter what.

It's Clucking Cold!

It’s Clucking Cold. Not just sort of cold, or a little chilly, but Clucking Cold. I’m incredibly thankful that my house has such a large unfinished basement because as of late, I have two victims of the cold bedded down in respective kennels to recover and hopefully recoup until this insane cold snap passes over. Sassy the cat and Henrietta the chicken have taken up temporary residence and I have a feeling that these won’t be the only ones admitted to this “inside barn” before it’s all said and done. The temperatures this morning were registering in the negative (-5 degrees to be precise) and I couldn’t bring myself to go down to the coop to open the big door. My thoughts being that the closed door will help hold some of the heat into the coop and protect the birds. I’ve already found one bird deceased in the coop a few days ago and now trying to prevent a second or god forbid, third or more.  

Water freezes quickly in these temperatures if not under a heat source and refilling waterers and cleaning has been next to impossible. The outside hose is frozen and the barn doesn’t have running water yet. At least if there was snow, I could always fill a waterer with snow and let the heater underneath it do the work of turning the white fluff into water, but in this cold—that’s not possible. The nearest water source from the barn is up at the house which is roughly a 150 foot walk uphill (no joke) and then into the bathtub to fill because the waterer is too large for the kitchen sink (not to mention the yuck factor). I have gotten wiser in this frigid environment and learned to get 5 gallon buckets with lids to fill with water so that I don’t have to have the chicken waterer in the bathtub, but that still involves trying not to spill water as I carry the waterer out of the house down to the barn. Spilled water outside quickly turns to ice and, if not paying attention, results in slipping and spillage down one’s coveralls creating instant chill.  

We’re only in the beginning of January and I’m already over the cold – I can’t imagine what my state of mind is going to be at the end of February when the snow really gets going and the wind picks up, creating a sort of liquid nitrogen feel across one’s face as daily chores are completed. I also can’t imagine how Sassy and Henrietta are going to feel if a warmer streak comes and those “patients” are ousted back to the barn. I may end up with a chicken and cat at my back door begging to come back in. This winter is a true test of farming and if I and the other animals can make it through to April 1^st, I think we can call it a success.  

In the meantime, if you need me, just look for something resembling a Stay Puft purple and brown marshmallow, shuffling through the farm buildings and trying to keep animals as comfortable as possible. You most likely will see a parade of animals following this figure back to the house to try and come in with the others. I’m convinced that’s their goal this winter.

Much Love and Cluck in the New Year!

It’s hard to believe that a whole year has gone by already at the farm. I think back to where I was at this time last year and where I am now and there really have been some big changes that happened over the past few months. Several rooms in the house received a fresh coat of paint, the flock increased by 17 birds, new wiring was added to the small barn, I added 2 cats and a dog to the pack and I began a tiny little business making doggy treats.



Baby Lavenders and the mutt, Shamrock

I was incredibly thankful that my losses were minimal this year. Two chickens died. This being said, I never want to get over confident with that. My experiences have taught me that the more confident I am that NOTHING will happen to the flock, the more likely something will happen to the flock. I’ve dealt with the occasional bumble foot issue and lately have been working to rid the birds of some sort of respiratory bug that they developed, but otherwise have been exceedingly blessed this year. They’ve been good layers, have behaved (mostly) and haven’t destroyed anything or themselves. Yes, very blessed indeed this year.  



A handful of babies were born (well, hatched) on the farm this year, two lavender orpingtons and the first “mutt” chicken broke forth in March and then little Half Note, the wayward rooster, hatched in mid-summer. I’ve learned quickly that incubating eggs in the early spring is so much better both from a temperature/humidity control issue to the ‘getting the bird ready for the big coop’. When the birds are hatched in the early spring, they’re adults by late summer and a lot of the concerns with keeping the little ones warm are long gone by then.  

This past year, I was taught more humility and the true meaning of the phrase “don’t count your chickens before they hatch” because this was exactly what happened when I tried my hand at hatching this spring. Out of an estimated 25-30 eggs, only 4 chicks hatched and became adults. Granted, it could very well be my incubator but I think a lot of it came from lack of experience and learning that things need to just be left to their devices. I couldn’t help myself in candling the eggs—it was really neat to see that little tiny dot moving around on the inside of the egg shell. Hopefully if I try hatching again this next spring I’ll be a little less ‘hands on’ and more ‘hands off’.  I have learned that it’s not easy making a chicken.

Half Note as a teenager this fall

I've met so many new people this year and made so many new connections both for the farm and my day-to-day life. I would have never dreamed at this time last year that I would have a connection to a brewery that provided supplemental feed to my birds and offered me the chance to create something that would help pay for the farm in the form of making doggy treats. I truly had tunnel vision last year that the only thing that I was going to do was raise chickens and, while the chickens are still the focus of the farm, I was shown a different path entirely.

It may be the end of December, but it will be a matter of weeks before the planting trays are filled again and grow lights turned on, urging seedlings to grow so that they’re ready to go outside right after the last frost. Eggs will most likely fill the incubator again, hoping for more hen than rooster and looking forward to hatching day as the cold winds blow outside and the new little chicks cuddle beneath their heat source.

I have to wonder at the end of this year, what the end of next year will look like. 

Journal Entries: The Right Write

I’m asked so often, “How in the world do you find the energy to get all the things finished that you do?” To be really honest, I don’t know how I find the time, energy or gumption to do the tasks around the farm. I’m well into my 40’s, display the stereotypical American physique of a few too many extra pounds, work a 40 hour a week job, have a small dog biscuit business on the side, play flute in a community band and have 27 animals that depend on me for their survival. 
I have to admit, it is a lot and I’m not always the happiest in doing my daily chores, although there always seems to be something that makes me pause for a moment and appreciate the blessing that is this life.

Sometimes the pause is a gorgeous sunrise or sunset as I’m walking at breakneck speed to the barn to check on the chickens and collect eggs and sometimes it’s just the way that the wind is blowing the pines in the backyard. More often than not, it’s three adult roosters crowing in the morning that makes me smile and I wish I had more time to devote to caring for everything the way that I’d like to.

I’m a Type B personality crammed into a Type A lifestyle.

My ideal life would be to rise at the break of morning and feed the animals, then settle in for an hour or so to enjoy a cup of coffee and perhaps do a crossword puzzle or perhaps write another entry in a journal that I started when I first moved to the farm.

I’ve always been a journal keeper, having received my first blank journal at around 6 years old. I’ve discovered that the need for journaling is hereditary, discovering that my Great Grandpa Jordan kept detailed journals throughout his life—chronicling life on his farm in Southern Illinois, the birth of my father, day to day events that may have seemed insignificant but were important enough to him to write it down.

I’m sure, like myself, my great grandpa referred back to these journals from time to time to remember what happened on a certain date at the farm or what the weather was or how my great grandma was, any little event. As I read his handwriting I feel a connection to him and realize that many of the same worries I have today in more modern times, he felt also so many years ago.

The journaling will continue, I’m sure, throughout the rest of my life and worries I have today will seem insignificant years down the road.  It’s all in perspective. I know that one day I will look back at journal entries and wonder, as folks I know ask, how I got it all done and the response will be – “I don’t know, but I have it written down.”

The Birth of a Biscuit

I’ve been on Blog hiatus the last year or so and it wasn’t on purpose. As most of you know, I’ve created a little tiny company called Purple Shamrock Farm. I moved to my tiny farm in August of 2016 and at first I was pigeonholed with the idea that all I was going to do was raise chickens. Chickens, chickens, chickens.

I had these grandiose plans that I was going to raise the perfect lavender orpingtons and make a boat load of money. I still laugh at that thought today and how much I have learned over the past year and even past few months.  

What I quickly discovered was that unless you’re a large production-type chicken farm, you’re not going to make ANY money off of chickens.  

Oh, you might sell a few dozen eggs here and there, but you can’t charge what it truly costs to produce that carton of rainbow colored eggs. No one in their right mind would pay $6 a dozen, at least, not around these parts.  

So, reduce the cost to $3 a dozen and take a loss – comforting yourself that you’re spreading goodwill to others and giving others a taste (a very good taste by the way) of what farm life is like. You watch with joy as people open their egg carton and marvel at the brown, peach, blue and even green eggs and feel a sense of pride that you helped make those happen.  

If one could live on joy alone, I would be absolutely swimming in profit. Unfortunately though, there is feed, medicine, bedding, and fencing to purchase so that is how the I.P.A. Bites (Incredible. Pupper.Appetizers.) got their start.  

I attended a concert this summer featuring the band Blue Oyster Cult. While I’m not exactly a huge fan, it was a fun break from regular and farm work and a chance to hang out with some friends, maybe drink a beer or two and just kick back.  

As I was sitting in my folding chair at the concert that summer evening with a group of friends, waiting for the band to start, another friend walked over and introduced me to a friend of hers that was just starting to brew for a new beer brewing company in Seymour, Seymour Brewing Company.

After some conversation, this friend’s friend and I discovered we’d been in the same high school class and that his wife was the pediatrician of my friends’ kids. He had a lot of spent grain from the brewing process that he didn’t want to just toss out and wanted to know if I’d be interested in feeding it to my chickens.

Free feed? Absolutely! I was all about it. I picked up my first “supply” a week or so later and watched as my flock gobbled down the damp grains. The next four days I picked up three 5 gallon buckets each night and suddenly was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be able to use all of what I was being given.

I was in the shower one morning (all the best ideas seem to come from the shower) when I thought DOG TREATS! Somewhere in my experiences and maybe just a little dreaming too, I remembered hearing that people had made dog treats out of spent brewing grains.

Immediately I went to the web and looked up recipes.  I found one that worked so well with my farm that I actually got tears in my eyes. The recipe only had four ingredients in it; the spent grain, eggs (uh, hello?), all- purpose flour and peanut butter. Oh yes!

I created the first batch of biscuits that evening and took samples to work the next day to coworkers to feed to their pooches. I think the coworkers were confused because I had always been only about the chickens and the biscuits looked a little strange with the grains poking out all over. I also was baking the biscuits on a dark pan which I found out later turns the baked goods dark (stop laughing baker people).

I wish I had photos of those first biscuits – I’m sure they looked less than appetizing, but the dogs LOVED them so I had a feeling I was on to something. I could make a little money on the side to help pay for the farm and its operations since the egg thing wasn’t exactly panning out.

A few days later I approached the owner of the Seymour Brewing Company and proposed what I was hoping to do with the dog treats. As I shook with the uncertainty of what he would say (I hope he couldn’t see my nervousness), to my amazement, he agreed to sell the biscuits in his brewery and the start of I.P.A. Bites was born.  I couldn’t believe it.

Fast forward to two months later and I’ve created hundreds of the treats to satisfied puppers in the area.

I haven’t been able to fully fund the farm operations just yet on the sale of the biscuits, but hopefully that’s on the horizon. It’s difficult working a 40 hour a week job on top of trying to start a small business on the side and take care of the farm as well. With a little planning and a lot of luck, the I.P.A. Bites will carry Purple Shamrock Farm to its next endeavor.