Last summer, a season which seems like a dream right now
with the umpteenth snow falling in Connecticut, Jay and I discussed
chickens. We had a backyard flock of
twelve, eleven hens of various breeds and one awesome Cochin rooster named
Aslan. We had lost two hens during the
summer to unknown causes. Lucy the Rhode
Island Red and Righty, a Silver Spangled Hamburg, were found dead in the coop. Our coop isn’t big enough to handle a lot of
chickens so our discussion centered around replacing the hens we’d lost, not
adding more than two.
I love having the pale green eggs laid by our two Easter
Eggers/Americauna’s, Faye and Flo, but they are going on five-years-old and don’t
lay as often. I reasoned that if we were
going to add another hen, she should be an Easter Egger as well. Jay suggested we hatch our own chicks, but I
was not sold on the idea.
We have two Silkie hens, Mumbles and Beeker, who seem to always be broody. Silkies are known for being broody which means
they feel a need to sit on the nest for weeks at a time with few breaks in an
effort to hatch whatever may or may not be underneath their bodies. Silkies are often used to hatch eggs the
natural way (no plug in incubators). I had read that hens which are Easter Egger
crosses will still lay green eggs which would be our case; Easter Egger/Cochin
mixes. If we hatched our own, the ideal
would be to get one or two female chicks who grew to look like their father,
but laid green eggs. The worst case
would be hatching another rooster. That’s
the risk of hatching your own eggs as opposed to buying chicks that are already
sexed. We have a no-kill policy with our flock so
gendercide was out of the question.
I wanted to wait and go to a poultry show to buy chicks from
a breeder where I could be guaranteed of the gender. The coop is small, so adding males would only
take up unnecessary space. Roosters are
not needed for hens to lay eggs and I was afraid of them fighting each
other. If we were to add chickens, they
really needed to be female. Also, since
our Silkies had hatched eggs before for a friend, I’d learned that the chances
of getting viable chicks were slim. It’s
heartbreaking to watch an egg hatch only to have the chick die before it can
exit the shell.
So I compromised. We’d
try to hatch our own and if it didn’t work, we’d go an upcoming poultry show
and buy a sure thing, a young pullet or two.
This gave our birds almost a month to produce home-grown chicks (hopefully
little girls).
Faye and Flo cooperated and gave us two eggs each, two days
apart, then went on their merry ways.
Most hens just lay the egg and go, trusting society to raise their
children, or not. They don’t care. I wrote the laying date on each egg with a Sharpie
so I would know when to expect hatching.
Beeker and Mumbles were both broody so I put two eggs under each
hen. Twenty-one days later, two eggs
were rotten, one hatched a dead chick and we got one live chick. The live chick came out of the darker green
egg which told me that Flo was the biological mother. I was
skeptical, but Kelsey said she’d had a dream about the chick; it was a girl and
we had to name her Penelope. Kelsey was
often clairvoyant when she was younger so I felt somewhat reassured.
Newborn Penelope hides under foster mom Beeker |
When Penelope started chest-bumping her mother and her neck
grew longer, like a cockerel’s, I got nervous.
What’s the male form of “Penelope”?
Peter? I watched You Tube videos
on how to determine the sex of a chick and tortured little Penelope by holding
her upside-down, her mother clucking at me anxiously while I examined the chick’s
vent, a.k.a. “hoo-hoo”. Nothing popped
up which would indicate a little roo, so maybe Kelsey was right. Of course, professional chicken sexers can
make mistakes and I was only You Tube trained.
Penelope and her fluffy white mother were inseparable, even as
the child outgrew her mom. After about a
month of keeping them confined to the garden, I put the two in with the
flock. They were accepted pretty easily
as the others were used to seeing the little peeping chick run around by
now. If another hen came near Penelope,
little two-pound Beeker would challenge her.
Silkies are a bantam breed which means they are mini chickens. Bantams are about half to a third the size of
our other hens so the sight of Beeker chest-bumping another hen was almost
comical. Penelope’s sire is a Cochin,
one of the larger breeds of chickens and weighs in at nine pounds. For the chicken people out there, Cochin’s
also come in bantam size, but ours is a standard. She should be a big girl (again, hoping she’d
stay a she).
Aslan the rooster. Beeker is the white fluff directly behind him. |
Penelope (center) with the flock. Her biological mother, Flo, is left of her in brown. Foster mom, Beeker, on the far right. |
Finally, Penelope’s feathers started coming in during her
second month. Her Easter Egger down
feathers and black stripe was replaced by the brown coloring of a partridge
colored hen, complete with copper-laced teal feathers on her cape. Definitely a girl, and a partridge color to
boot!
Penelope as a teenager |
If there was any doubt, Penelope started laying eggs in
January. She still doesn't look like a mature hen, more of a teenager. Penelope's eggs are a pale green like the other Easter Eggers, but a darker sage
color. Her eggs are still small because
she’s young, but I expect the size will increase. We have our first home-grown chicken to carry
on the green egg laying in exactly the color and gender we were hoping for.
Our tray of rainbow eggs. Penelope's are the center two. |
Great story, and in light of your Facebook news tonight.
ReplyDelete...very poignant.
ReplyDeleteThis is a good story.
ReplyDelete