A Mother Clucker Has to Do What a Mother Clucker Has to Do

There aren’t any human children at the farm. A lot of you parents out there probably think – well heck, you don’t have a clue what it’s like to stay up late at night worrying about a sick child, cleaning up unending messes, never having enough time to get everything done that you’d like to while stepping around the little inhabitants of the house/farm, or not being able to take a much needed vacation for time away. While I recognize that attitude that some may have, I have to respectfully disagree that I haven’t felt a lot of the same emotions or had the same frustrations that these parents have.

I’ve stayed up late at night worried about my big dog, Ozzie, as he ate something that caused him to become so lethargic that I thought he may pass away through the night. I’ve nursed some chickens back to health from a respiratory issue, removed infections from their feet and then had to gently ease some out of this life into the next. There really isn’t a veterinarian around these parts that would doctor a chicken and really, why would they?

I’ve been able to take one overnight vacation (for 2 nights) in the last year and as the farm grows – that one luxury may be fading too. Anyone know of a good farm watcher?

It’s not that I’m bitter about it, I’m truly not, but there are multiple sacrifices that have to happen on a day to day basis with growing, running and maintaining a farm by oneself. My friends try to be understanding when I bow out of a much needed evening out at 8PM, my need to run home and feed everyone, collect eggs, and lock everyone up for the night so they don’t end up on the coyote/raccoon menu, taking precedence over partying. There’s nothing quite like knowing that the things that you are raising are constantly under threat from being eaten. Imagine that with human children for a moment.  

The mess they leave behind

There are still 19 chicks in my basement at the time of this writing and I can only imagine what the parent of a human teenager feels like as I raise these little ones. They eat voraciously, are incredibly noisy and are absolutely making a complete mess of their inside brooder. It will take days if not weeks to eradicate the dust and the tiny first feathers that they shed to make way for their adult plumage. My “free chicks” that I received from a friend for raising said friend’s birds as well, have totaled well over $50 so far in feed and growing. 

That being said, when these birds “leave the nest” as teenager birds and go to the large coop – I will worry for the first few days that they’re eating enough, that they’re staying warm enough, and that they’re not being picked on too much by the larger adult birds.

No, they are not human children but I think that parents of human children would worry about their teenagers in much the same way. Granted, these human children don’t typically need to worry about getting “eaten” by a hawk or other ground predator – but there are other dangers out there that a teenager has to watch out for.

I may not be a human mother, but being the Mother Clucker that I am – I’m going to raise these little ones and the other animals to the best of my ability and hope that they grow up well and are nice to one another. I'll take their sass and clean up mess after mess just because I love them. When things get too rough and I need a tiny amount of time away, that, dear friends, is why I have a great relationship with the brewery in town. Just know that I'll have to be home by 8:00PM. J

Chickens can be Really Bad Mother Cluckers

As I’m sure most already know, chickens are the closest living relative to the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Apparently some research team stuck a long tail on a chicken sometime back and watched the way the bird moved to have an idea of how big, bad, T-Rex would have moved. Welcome to Jurassic Park?

No surprise then, that the chicken is basically a reptile – the scales replaced by feathers and possessing the mentality of a cold blooded killer/hunter, all wrapped up in a fluffy, seemingly docile package of feathers and crazy movements. Who could guess that these creatures would think nothing of ripping a mouse to shreds, or, in some cases, picking on one another to the death? 

When I’m down in their coop I’ll hear their noises that resemble growls, chirps, and downright noises that sound like they’ve come from the very depths of hades. I’ll watch as a group of hens pick quietly at scattered cracked corn one moment and then the next, look at their flock mate and peck at their eye. Growling as they do it. Chickens are just sometimes downright mean.

I’ve watched ruthless chasing from the current flock as the new birds are introduced and watched with horror as the newcomers huddle in a corner, terrified to make a move as their older counterparts size them up, hissing and threatening to take them down in a flash of beak.  It’s a game of roulette every time I have to introduce birds to the big flock and not something that I look forward to doing. It’s stressful for the birds, it’s stressful for me, but it’s a necessary part of flock keeping and one task that must be taken with a very watchful eye to ensure that the new birds make it to adulthood.

Surely you’ve heard the term “pecking order” and it is chickens that this phrase came from. There is an absolute hierarchy established amongst the flock and each bird knows its place in the group. The lead hen (or rooster), gets first dibs on good food, the best perching spots and the first access to the best dust bath sites. The others fall into their respective places and when a new bird or birds are introduced to the flock – it upsets that balance for a time. No one wants to be put on the low pole and so any new birds that are brought in are usually picked on sometimes to the point of their death. It’s barbaric, but that’s the chicken way. They are bad muther cluckers sometimes.

Unfortunately, recently, a friend who is new to chicken keeping found that out with a bird that was introduced to a flock of hens. All seemed well at first, but as the evening wore on – the established birds had enough of this intruder and brought him down. Sadly, he was found the next morning – having been sent off to the big nest in the sky.

I think of all of these things as I watch my birds peacefully peck around grass and grain on a warm afternoon. They seem so docile, so friendly, so scared, but pushed to the test and when it is broken down – they are really a force to be reckoned with. After all, isn’t it the T-Rex who ends up surviving in the movies? J

The Struggles You Don't Always See

I am asked frequently by folks who follow my antics both on the farm and off, “how do you do it all?” To be truthfully honest, I really don’t know. There are absolutely days where I question my own sanity as I’m rushing home from my 40+ hour/week day job to feed 35+ chickens, 3 dogs, 4 cats, fix my own dinner, package biscuits if that’s needed, collect eggs, pick up around the house, keep up on bills, it’s a lot.
I appreciate, so much, those who say "you're doing an amazing job". I don't hear that from my critters- they're more concerned with what's in my hands and whether or not I'm going to try to capture them. It's an absolutely thankless job and I wouldn't consider to keep doing it if I didn't love it so much.
I do get nonverbal "thanks" every now and again when the barn cat rubs her head against my hand as I'm filling her bowls or a sideways look from one of the hens that just says "hey, I know you're here and I'm okay with that". A sigh from my big dog, Ozzie, and him laying his head on my lap is another moment of gratitude that I treasure. 
On my own Facebook page and the farm's Facebook page, I post things that I think are funny, uplifting, inspiring to others. I rarely, if ever, post those days when I'm down on myself because a chicken died, the dogs made a mess in the house, the cats laid on the piano and put huge tufts of hair on the top of it, I didn't get things cleaned or I just decided to sit on the sofa and watch a TV show instead of doing any number of things that need to be done around the house and the farm. On those days, I'm incredibly hard on myself and get frustrated, feeling that I've fallen short. The only words of encouragement on those days are the ones that I muster to bring from myself and sometimes that's difficult.
I've kept a journal since the first day that I moved to the farm and on those days when it feels like there's a giant gray cloud hovering over my head, I oftentimes refer back through the pages from days/months ago and read what had been happening then and what is happening now. More often than not, after reading those pages I realize that I've always managed to get through those tough times and carry on.
Faith plays a big part in managing the farm as well - I've said to people so many times that there is NO possible way you can have a farm without Faith. I don't attend a church building as often as I should, but each time I walk down to the barn and notice the land around me, a gorgeous sunrise or beautiful sunset, hear the chickens going about their daily lives or hearing any number of birds flying about or critters milling about the pond behind my property, I realize that all of this is a gift from God. I am constantly in awe of all that has been provided to me. 

Clucker Clocks - Times Changing

We had the time change two weekends ago and although I don’t want to get into the debate on how awful it is, how beneficial, etc., I just have to say that it takes me a few weeks to get back on track. I have a constant feeling of running behind, not having enough time to get everything accomplished and grumbling about the fact that when I go to the barn to do my morning check and let the birds out – it’s pitch black again.

The animals don’t seem to mind the time change from the fact that it means that they get fed a full hour earlier. Anytime any change involves getting food earlier, they’re more than willing to accommodate it.

It is more difficult for me with the chickens and the time change because it means that daily eggs are not laid until later, the birds don’t want to go into the coop until it’s dark or, if I want to put them up before heading to evening events, having to have a chicken round up and coerce them into the coop, protesting and squawking like children being told that they have to go to bed while it’s still light outside.
All that being said, I do like when the weather turns warmer and I can stay outside until later with sunlight. There’s something to be said about doing farm chores in either the dark or with light – especially when collecting eggs from the dark nesting boxes. I can’t count the number of times I’ve reached into a box in the dark and ended up with a hand in chicken poo instead of the warm/cool hardness of a freshly laid egg. 

I tend to work more on farm projects when the time springs forward and find myself out way beyond when I usually retire for the night – thinking I can fit “one more thing” in. As of late, however, it’s been too cold to want to stay outside for very long at all. I get frustrated with myself that I grumble so much at this time of year. While the animals don’t seem to mind the time change – this mama does. Honestly, it’s not even the “springing forward” time change either, it happens when “falling back” too. I like to think that I’m a person who rolls with anything, but I guess I’m a creature of habit and just like things to stay as usual as possible. 

A True Mama C!

We’ve got chicks everywhere! 6 week olds in the larger brooder, one week olds in the smaller brooder, a baby chick (or possibly two) about ready to hatch in the small coop outside with the silkie/cochins and in one more week or so – more day-old chicks arriving from the hatchery! I’ve gotten quite used to the peeping noises and trills that newborn chicks make and can tell pretty quickly when everyone is happy and well taken care of.

The other evening, however, I came home from work to feed all the dogs and cats in the house and then went down to the big coop to check water and food and collect eggs. Once those tasks were finished, I proceeded back to the house to go down to the basement to check on the two brooder boxes. The month old chicks were chirping loudly; protesting that their waterer was completely empty and they had managed to sling most, if not all, of their chick feed crumbles about the floor of the brooder. The other brooder box, made from a Sterilite large plastic container with the top cut out, was silent and DARK! Oh my gosh! Dark!

Fearing the absolute worse, I walked over to the dark brooder and timidly listened for some sort of sound before I turned on the overhead light, looked inside, and witnessed what I was afraid would be deceased birds. Thankfully, the little ones had followed instinct and huddled closely together to keep warm while the “outage” was happening.

The culprit of the darkness was nothing more than a burned out heat light bulb and thankfully I had spares (a result of an impulse purchase last year). Once the light was restored, the chicks huddled beneath the red glow for a few minutes and then began to wander about their brooder again – kicking bedding up, scratching at feed and doing what happy little chicks do.

I then took care of my “teenager” chicks (the one month olds) and peace was restored amongst the flock again.

It's been an interesting year so far with this year’s additions. First there was bad luck in not having any chicks develop in eggs in the incubator after trying with 3 separate clutches. Then, there was the good luck in getting 6 additional chicks from the box farm store (something I swore I would never do, but had a weak moment this year) and then finding out that my silkie/cochins were being broody for a developing egg (or two). Then, back to bad luck in having a chick that I purchased from the 4H sale die and then back to good luck that the remaining birds are alive, well, and thriving. 

If there is one lesson that I have learned with farming it is that there is always balance in everything and that if you don’t have a steady sense of patience – you’ll never make it. I had allowed myself to fall into a “get it done and get it done now” and that just doesn’t fly on the farm. I’m grateful for that – it’s more of who I am. I'm a happy Mama Clucker when my birds are well cared for and I do allow myself some pride in knowing that they are doing well because I have put the effort in to make sure that they are well fed, cared for and peaceful. 

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.