My husband Jim realized that Bonnie had gone broody after noticing her sitting for longer, more intense periods in her nest over the past couple of days. Not fully aware of what was happening, he simply reached underneath her to retrieve eggs. When he tried this tactic on Sunday, Bonnie wouldn't budge and she snapped shrilly at him. That was the sign. According to Harvey Ussery, author of the book The Small-Scale Poultry Flock, a broody hen "takes on a deeply settled, Zen-like intensity." If you try and pet her, her hackles will rise and she'll screech "Skraaaawk!"
"That's pretty much what happened," said Jim with a laugh, as I read him Ussery's quote.
The prospect of baby chicks in the henhouse excites both of us, even as it filled us initially with some concerns. We have talked about raising baby chicks in the way that many farmers do, by obtaining day-old chicks that were hatched in an incubator from a hatchery and growing them to egg-laying size. I wasn't sure we were prepared, however, to take the step of raising babies from birth. Baby chicks raised in this way require almost constant feeding and eighty degree heat. Most of the farmers we know raise them in special brooders that are set apart from the henhouse and are equipped with heat lamps. Our next door neighbor has done so, by bringing the babies indoors and letting them grow in a cage in her sitting room.
The expense of a brooder and a heat lamp, coupled with the prospect of chicks in a house where four cats roam fairly freely, was a little unnerving for me. I had hoped we could delay a decision on this step for a year or so until we were ... well, "ready." Ready was code in my mind for being able to raise them outdoors in the barn or some other protected area, with the heat lamp on and all prospects of fire dangers and potential life-threatening conditions for the babies under control. That's the kind of "ready" that can be put off for years.
Bonnie, however, made the decision for us. And, as we are discovering, it might be the best possible outcome.
We visited the Elsworth Farm this morning to buy a fresh bag of chicken feed. After mentioning the broody hen to owner Bill, he gave us some reassuring advice: Don't raise the chickens yourself. Let Bonnie do it.
"She'll keep her chicks close to her body, and her body is about eighty degrees," he said. "You won't need anything else."
"We don't need to do anything?" We were slightly dumbfounded.
"Just let her take care of her chicks," he said. "Stay out of her way. She'll protect her babies like no one else can."
He also told us that the hen would roll any non-fertilized eggs out of the nest, and that if we tried to put some fresh eggs into her nest (in an effort to get more chicks hatched), she might protest by rolling them out, as well.
He also warned us to be a little more wary of the rooster during this period. Our rooster, 'Aina, has been a good bird. He does plenty of early morning crowing, but he takes very good care of the flock. He also is fairly amiable toward the two of us, and even lets Jim pick him up from time to time. This friendliness might change as the hatching time draws nearer, Bill said. The rooster might get more protective and peck at anyone who seems like they're going to threaten the mother and her young.
The babies are expected to hatch in two to four weeks. After their birth, the mother typically forages small bugs for them to eat, which Bill suggested might be a bit hard for her to find since cooler weather is coming. He recommended that we supplement their diet with a starter feed.
Jim and I are both hoping that the eggs are fertilized and that the chicks hatch in a safe and healthy way. We also hope that they're able to thrive as babies and grow up. But we're also feeling as if this is a situation outside our control. We didn't plan for baby chicks right now, because we were not "ready." Bonnie, however, was ready, and went broody. And, so now we watch and wait.
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