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.