After going to the local farm supply store and seeing the baby chicks, I had the burning need to realize my dream of having australorps. Found a couple just wandering in the street last year and fell in love but had to give them up (not enough land then). They were the gateway drug because before them, I had no desire to have chickens.
This time I have the land and the dream but the store didnāt sell them. I looked up the storeās hatchery and there they were. Unfortunately, the minimum meant that our chicken count would skyrocket past our expected maximum for the farm. But hubby is indulgent, and we now have two over the max. I didnāt want all of them to be australorps because I already have a flock of the same kind of bird and itās hard to tell the difference in whoās who without looking at their leg band numbers. So I ordered a couple of several breeds but australorps came first.
Since a good sized brooder came with the house, I also offered to foster chicks for the place I volunteer at. The availability for the chicks we wanted was not on the same day, so the foster chicks were two days earlier, which meant shipped two days earlier.
The experience was eye-opening.
First set of babies
The fear and nervousness during the days before and during shipment are very real. Hubby told me that I was a wreck very much like my last days of pregnancy (ironically called nesting), even though these were the foster chicks. I couldnāt sleep, worrying whether I had everything needed for their arrival. I constantly tidied up the brooder. I read everything I could get my hands on. Second guessed myself over and over. Not to mention the fear of whether they would be alive once they got here which meant I might have sentenced the poor things to a horrible, lonely death (this after reading horror stories).
In the end, they arrived safe and sound. In fact, they were a lively bunch. I could hear them from the other side of the post officeās closed metal door.
I got them home, carefully dipped their beaks in the waterer and they were off. As soon as their little tiny feet hit the paper towel lined brooder (because that was suggested) they took off to explore. It was suggested to line the brooder with paper towels over the bedding because they have to get used to eating food and not bedding. Well, this bunch kept going to the corners, pulling out pine shavings so that they could have their little tug-of-war over their findings.
There were two who learned to stand by the door and when it opened, they would make a try for freedom. They are fast and they make little hops that will catch you off guard. Needless to say, I was ready for them after the first time.
The most entertaining thing I learned about chicks is that I think they are faster than even they are aware. Most times I watch them race across the brooder as though they have some place important to be immediately, and once there, they stop (very suddenly), they look around as though theyāre not sure how they got there. A lot of times they will knock their fellow chicks over because of their momentum. I told hubby itās like some superhero who discovers the power of superhuman speed for the first time. Except with them, itās every time.
This didnāt stop the worrying though. That first night I couldnāt sleep because I decided to go with the heating table rather than a lamp. Their brooder is closed in with wood and hardware cloth, but a lamp just seems like it would attract predators to scare them in the middle of the night.
The little fuzzbutts didnāt know what to make of the heating table, and were huddled all together on the other end of the brooder. I took each one, who protested LOUDLY, and stuffed them under the table where they were supposed to be. The loud chirping stopped immediately. For every single one of them. It was like someone turned off a chirping switch. They stayed there, perfectly content.
Then we had a heavy rain which brought with it a surprise temperature drop. āWill they be okay in 68 degree weather when theyāre supposed to stay at a constant 95? Will some of them wander out? Did I do the right thing in buying this heating table? Still, each morning after, theyāve been their normal zooming selves.
Say what? Pasty butt.
Just like before with our older chicken, there were a couple of chicks with poop on their bottoms. Iāve read that this happens, especially with shipped chicks, and should be cleaned before it causes other problems. So again it was time to clean chicken bottoms...except this time, they were very tiny and feisty.
Unlike adult chickens, chicks cannot be soaked (canāt regulate body temps well), so a cloth dipped in wrist warm water is enough to just gently swipe the poop off. If itās dried, Iāve found holding the cloth to the bottom then wiping helps. Doing this in a warm place helps, so having 85-90 deg weather was a win for me at that time.
Second set of babies
My chicks were due to come in, but like having a second child where youāve been through it all before, I was a little more relaxed. The shipping and brooder were tried and true. There was nothing more to fret over. In fact, I didnāt bother lining the brooder with paper towels because they just pulled the bedding from the sides anyway.
My only fear was the size difference. The two-day olds were already growing in wing feathers and some were almost doubling in size. I decided to remove the fosters to clean the brooder, then placed mine in. At this time, I tried to band them, but the chaos was too much and I gave up. At least the fosters are banded.
When the fosters were returned, they didnāt care about the new ones. I donāt even think they were able to recognize the difference. Yay!
Also, many of the new learned what to eat from the slightly older chicks.
Impacted crop or Ruptured air sac
And now on to the latest crisis. After cleaning the brooder for the night, I found one of my fuzzbutts had an enlarged throat/chest. The thing was the size of an olive. Considering how they are only about three times the size of an olive, thatās big!
I had thought to leave her in there while I search the internet for possible causes. At seven pm on a Friday, thereās no alternative than to play at being a resident veterinarian.
It was either an impacted crop or a ruptured air sac. My first guess was that it was an impacted crop because they really do love to play with the bedding. The suggestion was olive oil and grit in food going forward.
I held Hope close to my chest as I brought her inside the house to try and find something I could use as an infirmary. The kennel I used for Wormy is too big and the bars too far spaced. She could wander out of it. With two dogs and a cat, thatās not good.
In the end, I used a small cardboard moving box with her group of chicks original shipping box inside. It was lined with a towel and on the bottom was a heater set to high while I held her. I christened this the chick infirmary box.
I dipped her beak in olive oil several times, forcing her to swallow it but taking care not to cover her air holes. Then I massaged the big bulbous thing. She didnāt vomit like some online said she would and it didnāt go down.
While trying to fix this dilemma, Hope cuddled close and fell asleep. When I tried to put her in the chick infirmary, she chirped so long and loudly it was more like a scream. She was crying for me. I picked her up and held her close and she quieted immediately. When I took my t-shirt off and stuffed it in there as bedding, she nestled into it and went straight to sleep. I didnāt hear a peep from her (literally) until the sun fully rose.Ā
I read more. I saw pictures of ruptured air sacs and it looked just like what she had. The only treatment is to remove the air directly by puncturing it with a needle. I didnāt trust myself to do that as tired as I was. So I figured, after I tend to the others as I do in the morning, I would take her out of the infirmary box, assess her condition, and perform the minor surgery then.
For most of the night, the little fuzzbutt worked her way into the deepest part of my heart. She has a name, and itās Hope, because I was hoping sheād survive the night and me having to stick a needle in her chest.
This morning, the first thing I noticed was this large poop in the infirmary. The next was that her crop was normal again. Iāve watched her today dive into the feeder, head all the way in and tail all the way up. My Hope just loves food.
All in all, the experience was down right frightening at times, with so much to learn and prepare for. But like they say with pregnancy, with time you forget and are ready to move forward. Itās true. I wouldnāt mind doing it all over again.
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We had a long winter with little to no eggs. GettingĀ 0-3 eggs a day, Ā I was forced to buy eggs from the store! I forget how spoiled we are until I eat eggs from a store. Itās like eating those ice cream dots instead of Haagen Daz.
Although our girls have picked up production now, we always add new chicks every year to replace the older girls (3-4 years old) that have stopped laying.
