My yen for chickens began when my parents bought my brother and me chicks for Easter one year. As they grew up and discovered how to escape from their little pen (and proceeded to poop all over the house!), my parents, my brother and I and the chicks took a ride to the Ramsey, NJ farm of our Aunt Mary. Turns out both chickens lived out their lives there, happily ever after. I was smitten, though, and waited patiently for the time when I could have chickens again.
First, choose your breed. Some tend to be a little more vociferous, so we opted for Rhode Island Reds which are recommended for a more urban setting as they tend not to be so loud. We ordered ours through the Agway in Haverhill. We only wanted laying hens so we ordered 12 pullets. Here's the caveat on this: you can order hens only, but there is no guarantee that the chicks will be correctly sexed. So, we ended up singing the Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the others," when we realized one of the chicks was a rooster. Turns out he's okay, not the aggressive sort about which we'd been warned.
Wait, let me back up. The first hard learned lesson for me came with a disastrous conclusion. We had picked up the FIRST flock of chicks and set them out in the brooder, located in our oil tank room. Lindsay suspended the heat lamp over the little chicks and they did the things chicks do best – hop around, peep constantly and, of course, randomly deposit digested chick food everywhere. Last May we had a hot snap at the time the chicks were about 3 weeks old. I was at work, still heady with the fact that we finally got chicks. It suddenly dawned on me that it was 90 degrees outside and I had a heat lamp over the chicks! Poultry can withstand cold, but heat is what can destroy a flock in no time. I took my lunch break to fly home and remove the heat lamp and set up a fan to circulate the air. Further, they had managed to drink all of their water. Phew!! That was a close one. On my way home the second time, I stopped at the feed store to pick up a larger, heavier waterer. Upon arriving home, I filled up the 5 gallon container and promptly spilled it all over the garage floor. I thought I’d leave the garage door open to allow the water to evaporate and at the same time made the unwise choice to leave the door to the brooder room open to allow for more fresh air circulation for my dear chicks. They were feathering out and I wanted to keep them as cool as possible.
I went back into the house to feed the dogs and get dinner started. It was only a matter of 10 minutes before I went back out to check on the chicks but to my shock and disbelief the chicks were dead. I started counting them and realized that three were missing. Of those, two I never did find, but cowering in the corner of the brooder room was one scared chick. I snatched her up and ran out of the garage to see if I could find the other two, but to no avail. I named her immediately – Survivor Chick – but eventually changed it to a more dignified Matilda, the nickname my grandfather had for my grandmother. (He also called her Chick!) I never did find out what got to the chicks but it could have been anything. Lesson learned: Do not assume that predators don’t know that there’s a chicken dinner available. I’ll have more on that lesson later.
Chicks 2.0 was launched the next day, with the purchase of a new flock and a solemn promise to Matilda and the newcomers to safeguard them at all costs.
Chicken have arrived. Read on.
ReplyDeleteMy yen for chickens began when my parents bought my brother and me chicks for Easter one year. As they grew up and discovered how to escape from their little pen (and proceeded to poop all over the house!), my parents, my brother and I and the chicks took a ride to the Ramsey, NJ farm of our Aunt Mary. Turns out both chickens lived out their lives there, happily ever after. I was smitten, though, and waited patiently for the time when I could have chickens again.
First, choose your breed. Some tend to be a little more vociferous, so we opted for Rhode Island Reds which are recommended for a more urban setting as they tend not to be so loud. We ordered ours through the Agway in Haverhill. We only wanted laying hens so we ordered 12 pullets. Here's the caveat on this: you can order hens only, but there is no guarantee that the chicks will be correctly sexed. So, we ended up singing the Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the others," when we realized one of the chicks was a rooster. Turns out he's okay, not the aggressive sort about which we'd been warned.
Wait, let me back up. The first hard learned lesson for me came with a disastrous conclusion. We had picked up the FIRST flock of chicks and set them out in the brooder, located in our oil tank room. Lindsay suspended the heat lamp over the little chicks and they did the things chicks do best – hop around, peep constantly and, of course, randomly deposit digested chick food everywhere. Last May we had a hot snap at the time the chicks were about 3 weeks old. I was at work, still heady with the fact that we finally got chicks. It suddenly dawned on me that it was 90 degrees outside and I had a heat lamp over the chicks! Poultry can withstand cold, but heat is what can destroy a flock in no time. I took my lunch break to fly home and remove the heat lamp and set up a fan to circulate the air. Further, they had managed to drink all of their water. Phew!! That was a close one. On my way home the second time, I stopped at the feed store to pick up a larger, heavier waterer. Upon arriving home, I filled up the 5 gallon container and promptly spilled it all over the garage floor. I thought I’d leave the garage door open to allow the water to evaporate and at the same time made the unwise choice to leave the door to the brooder room open to allow for more fresh air circulation for my dear chicks. They were feathering out and I wanted to keep them as cool as possible.
I went back into the house to feed the dogs and get dinner started. It was only a matter of 10 minutes before I went back out to check on the chicks but to my shock and disbelief the chicks were dead. I started counting them and realized that three were missing. Of those, two I never did find, but cowering in the corner of the brooder room was one scared chick. I snatched her up and ran out of the garage to see if I could find the other two, but to no avail.
I named her immediately – Survivor Chick – but eventually changed it to a more dignified Matilda, the nickname my grandfather had for my grandmother. (He also called her Chick!) I never did find out what got to the chicks but it could have been anything. Lesson learned: Do not assume that predators don’t know that there’s a chicken dinner available. I’ll have more on that lesson later.
Chicks 2.0 was launched the next day, with the purchase of a new flock and a solemn promise to Matilda and the newcomers to safeguard them at all costs.