Twenty-two Chooks

Our chicken plan has always been to hatch our own eggs, and I did set seven of them, but after candling for a week, it was apparent they weren't developing. The fate of our beautiful Argalus is still in question. The Big Guy favors sending him to freezer camp, and I want to keep him because he's such a nice, beautiful rooster. He's safe for the time being, but I'm sad that it looks like we're not going to be able to hatch his babies. 

Fortunately, our friend brought over eggs from her flock and her nasty roo, Roscoe. I set them along with one of our own just to see, and after a couple days in the 'bator, we could see the web of veins forming inside five of them. I pulled the two quitters, which of course included our one, and the 21-day wait continued.

About a week before the chicks were due, and with the new coop nearing completion, I lost my mind and brought home seven 5- and 8-week old chicks from the feed store.

See? They were cute, and they were getting too big for the feed store tub and, well, I had a little chicken fever. It happens.

Here they are enjoying some time in their "playpen." The two red ones are called Production Reds, and even though they're the two oldest, the others have picked their poor tails to pieces. I have to keep special medicine on them in order to discourage it. The others are all Welsummers, save for the one in the back middle -- that one is a Sicilian Buttercup, and I think it might be a roo because it's just so darn aggressive. I also think one of the Wellies is a roo, and that would be a good thing because a) I need a fertile roo and b) Welsummers lay very dark brown eggs and when you cross them with blue-green egg layers, you get olive-eggers like my Hazel. Do you see where I'm going with this?

Coming home with these chooklings lit a fire under the coop addition, and on the day of the new hatch, they were moved into their new digs.

The Big Guy worked very hard to make a wonderful grow-out pen attached to our existing coop. All the birds can see and hear one another, and get acquainted, but they can't do any harm.

Not quite sure what to make of it...

...but within a few minutes, they made a beeline for the dirt and one by one, they threw themselves down and began to dust bathe. 

Meanwhile, back in the garage, things were happening! This is the first to hatch right when it split its shell with a strong kick.

 Before long, all of the eggs had pipped. The first chicks alternately rested and scrambled around the incubator, knocking into the other eggs. Did you know you can hear chicks peeping in their shells even before they've pipped? You can!

Freshly hatched Number 3 resting on the last two eggs. According to my obsessive research on hatching chicks, the prevailing opinion is that the first chicks to hatch sometimes like to "help" the others. After watching in real life, I am not at all convinced that what they were doing was "helping." In Disneyland, the cute little chicks adore their soon-to-hatch siblings and, knowing how tough it was for them to break out of their shells, they only want to ease the transition for their family. In Realsville, they simply don't care and are possibly instinctually trying to kill the others.

Take this chick for example. You can see the little beak working on the pip hole. The chicks have this egg pushed up against the side of the incubator. The seasoned chickeners will tell you that you can leave hatchlings in the 'bator for up to 48 hours, and you can because they will live and be fine. Opening the incubator also runs the risk of a severe drop in humidity which can kill the chicks by 'shrink-wrapping' them in their shells. For my chicks, though, after three were out and became very active, they kept rolling this egg onto its hole and then sitting on it.

 Their brooder was all set up for them, and I made the decision to remove the first three and let the last two hatch in peace.

Ahhh, much better. Look at all that room.

Secong-to-last hatch, obviously humidity was good and things were looking messy (although this was a very clean hatch overall.)

It was this one that convinced me that they might actually wish harm on their hatch mates. The second it had shaken off the shell from its butt, it hurried over to the last egg, pecked a little at the membrane, and then tried its best to cover the opening with its body. It could be a mama-hen instinct thing, but that wouldn't explain the babies that will be roosters. I think its a competitive survival tactic, and I can't really fault them for that.

 They fluff up real nice! All five are black like their daddy, but that could change as they age.

They're curious, but skittish.

If you're patient and move slowly, they will sit, and even sleep, on your hand. It gets a little warm sitting by their heat lamp for very long, though.

They are funny little things, already scratching at the "dirt," chasing and pecking at one another, and even able to get a little air with their tiny wings. The second-to-funniest thing is the way they poop. They'll stop still, raise their wings, wiggle their behinds, then boop! The funniest thing is when they "sun" themselves just like the big chickens except the little ones throw themselves down in the middle of a sprint, simultaneously spreading out a wing and kicking out a leg directly under the heat lamp.

Just before they hatched, their dad was killed by a coyote. My friend won't miss Roscoe and his grumpy ways, but we'll miss having a proper roo until one of these babies is old enough to man the flock. Since eggs are fertile for a couple weeks after a roo is no longer present, I had my friend bring over more eggs and set them right away. 

In 18 more days, we could have 6 more chickens for a total of 28.

That's normal, isn't it?