A Note From Mom
...so I’m down to three of my hens and have identified Natasha (the “good” dog) as the chicken molester. I wanted to get more bantams, this time three mille fleur pullets for their pretty spangled feathers but my local source won’t have any more until May.
Then I won an auction of 10+ Sicilian Buttercup eggs (12 shipped, but only 10 arrived intact), so I built an incubator at home out of assorted parts from “junk drawers.” Everyone has a junk drawer, don’t they? Or is it just my family?
It is a fine incubator, with a light bulb wired to a hot water heater thermostat, and ventilation from computer fan. The humidity and temperature seem to have stabilized at the appropriate levels. I candled the eggs and nine of the ten seem to look the way a fertile new-laid egg should (one has a lot of speckles on the shell and I am advised that those often do not hatch).
Now I am clucking over the eggs, checking the temp and humidity, fussing over the ventilation, worrying that the vinyl coated hardware cloth may be releasing unhealthy fumes and planning my brooding box (which I admit is rather counting my chickens before they hatch). Sicilian Buttercups are a rare heritage breed—I’d hate to squander the opportunity to perpetuate the breed!
None of my hens are broody—Agatha is laying, but she deposits her egg and takes off for her laps around the coop and her chicken obstacle course in their yard. She is a very athletic hen. Aretha is still a bully, but a close call with Natasha the Chicken Molester has humbled her somewhat and she’s not the leader she once was. And Nondescript Brown Hen #2 is too nondescript to be an effective mother. So it seems that the flock, if they hatch, will imprint on me or my mother and we will be real chicken moms. Egad!
