I thought I might be able to update in the comments of the last post, but a lot has happened in the past two and a half hours. One of the chicks has hatched entirely, and while it was an agonizing process to watch, it was awesome. And I mean awesome in the way it is meant to be used, not the way I usually use it, which is to signify something cool. This was awe inspiring.
The other chicks that have poked through are taking their time, which leads me to think that the one that has hatched initially broke through his shell sometime in the night. He isn't the one that I saw at first. That hole on that egg is still fairly small. The hatched one is out and flopping around the incubator. We are calling him a male because Marc wants more than anything to call him Adam. No, it doesn't make sense, but I've been up since 5:30 a.m and am too tired to protest. Plus, it's cute.
Marc is building a pen for the chicks in our kitchen. I don't think I have mentioned how small our house is. Our down stairs is one and a half rooms, a kitchen/living room/dining room and a half bath. So, for the next week, our lives will consist of chicks and kittens and the never-ending chore of keeping the house from smelling like a barn. If it doesn't warm up soon outside, it may be longer. I'm okay with that now, but I am aware that it may get tiresome. Or maybe not. Who knows?
The chick that has hatched is adorable. He's golden, alert and he seems strong. He has bright eyes, and when he hears my voice he turns his head in my direction and cheeps. He has to stay in the incubator until he dries, and it must be lonely in there. Poor little fellow. All that work, and he's left alone in a Styrofoam box surrounded by unhatched siblings. I was impressed with the way he broke his egg shell. He pecked a crack around the egg, like we do when cracking a egg. Then he was able to just pop the top off. Talk about the wonder of creation. It's the most energy efficient way for him, but how did he know the pattern? How did he know not to just peck randomly until the egg fell apart? It's lovely, to be able to see the hand of God in such simple, small things.
Marc is pretty sure he's an athlete, having been able to bust out so soon. If he's a rooster, Marc will probably want to name him Rambo or something. What can I say? We've had roosters named Aragorn, Tevye and now Bruce. Maybe it's time for a Rambo?
Marc just counted. There are 12 more chicks that have broken through their shells and are on their way. Woot!
Showing posts with label The HovaBator. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The HovaBator. Show all posts
Friday, May 14, 2010
It's Starting...!
It's 6:16 am and there is a hole in one of the eggs! I woke up early, and was lying on the couch with Marc when I joked about hearing cheeping from the incubator. Then, we DID hear cheeping! It's early for the chick, too, as they aren't due until tonight! There's a tiny little beak peeking out of the broken egg shell, and every once in a while it cheeps. Oh my goodness, it is beyond adorable!!!
Marc is hovering over the incubator (ah, so this is why it's called The HovaBator), and thinks the first chick hatched should be named Adam or Eve. Fitting. Actually, we found another egg that has a bigger hole on the side of it that we hadn't noticed before. Marc wants to put a little dab of food dye on the head of the first chick hatched, so we can see how he/she does.
Stay tuned...I think this will be a busy day here in The Chicken Diaries. I'll be home most of the day, hovering (See? See?) over the incubator, oohing and aw'ing. I am going out for lunch with friends, and I am making a pledge right now not to spend the whole time talking about my chicks. Seriously. Okay, I'll at least try...
I'll let you know when the first chick has achieved freedom from his/her egg.
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Marc is hovering over the incubator (ah, so this is why it's called The HovaBator), and thinks the first chick hatched should be named Adam or Eve. Fitting. Actually, we found another egg that has a bigger hole on the side of it that we hadn't noticed before. Marc wants to put a little dab of food dye on the head of the first chick hatched, so we can see how he/she does.
Stay tuned...I think this will be a busy day here in The Chicken Diaries. I'll be home most of the day, hovering (See? See?) over the incubator, oohing and aw'ing. I am going out for lunch with friends, and I am making a pledge right now not to spend the whole time talking about my chicks. Seriously. Okay, I'll at least try...
I'll let you know when the first chick has achieved freedom from his/her egg.
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The HovaBator Has Arrived!!!!
So The HovaBator came in. Marc was a bit disappointed that it was made out of Styrofoam. I guess with a name like The HovaBator, he was expecting tempered steel. I was just glad it was here. I let Marc put the thing together (aren't I nice?). I was a bit concerned when he was looking through the instructions and grumbling that there were no pictures. If I didn't know that he is downright McGyverish when it comes to mechanics, I'd be very concerned. I mean, really, the guy seriously has dreams of converting his Volks Jetta so that it runs on old french fry oil. And he could do it, too. Like he needs pictures.
**rolls eyes**
Now that the incubator is together, we are going to visit a friend tonight to get some special eggs. We're hoping that she has some Americauna eggs. Americauna chickens are very cool, in that they lay eggs that range in color from chocolate brown and lilac to aqua blue and green. We had two Americauna hens and a half Americauna rooster, but one of the hens and the rooster had an unfortunate meeting with a coyote last year. The other hen isn't laying eggs. So we need to import them. We'll pop them in with ours and see what happens.
The chickens are blissfully oblivious to all this parental planning going on. They spend their days wandering the land, snoozing under the lilac bushes, picking worms and bugs out of the front fields, fighting minor skirmishes with Pippin who maintains territorial rights to anywhere he has plopped on. Which is pretty much everywhere. He has taken to sitting on the lane in front of the porch, right in the midst of the cracked corn that I throw there for the chickens. He doesn't even eat the stuff. He just likes to own it.
The kittens are doing well, eating, sleeping and rolling around with each other like the fat little imps that they are. The dog is unimpressed. She does keep sniffing their bums and licking their ears, and has twice cleaned up their food plate for them. Otherwise, she is very definitely adopting an air of tortured martyrdom.
Just wait until she sees the chicks.
**rolls eyes**
Now that the incubator is together, we are going to visit a friend tonight to get some special eggs. We're hoping that she has some Americauna eggs. Americauna chickens are very cool, in that they lay eggs that range in color from chocolate brown and lilac to aqua blue and green. We had two Americauna hens and a half Americauna rooster, but one of the hens and the rooster had an unfortunate meeting with a coyote last year. The other hen isn't laying eggs. So we need to import them. We'll pop them in with ours and see what happens.
The chickens are blissfully oblivious to all this parental planning going on. They spend their days wandering the land, snoozing under the lilac bushes, picking worms and bugs out of the front fields, fighting minor skirmishes with Pippin who maintains territorial rights to anywhere he has plopped on. Which is pretty much everywhere. He has taken to sitting on the lane in front of the porch, right in the midst of the cracked corn that I throw there for the chickens. He doesn't even eat the stuff. He just likes to own it.
The kittens are doing well, eating, sleeping and rolling around with each other like the fat little imps that they are. The dog is unimpressed. She does keep sniffing their bums and licking their ears, and has twice cleaned up their food plate for them. Otherwise, she is very definitely adopting an air of tortured martyrdom.
Just wait until she sees the chicks.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Of HovaBators and Kittens
Well, I discovered yesterday that The HovaBator started its journey in Fruitland, Idaho and has made its way through Seattle to Vancouver, crossing the border and clearing customs on April 16th. I'm thinking that means it should be here soon. Which is good, because I've been saving eggs, and if it doesn't come soon we may have to build an addition on the hen house. Marc keeps saying, "You want to hatch all those?" I tell him that I am making allowances for defects, droppage and roosters. Oh, by the way, Marc has also informed me that we will be able to keep one rooster. Apparently Bruce will keep him in his place. This should be interesting.
On the subject of critter drama, we have recently acquired two new kittens. Marc and Grace went to pick out a kitten yesterday. Grace has a friend whose aunt had a cat with kittens, bless her heart. Anyway, they came home with two of the sweetest, most adorable kittens on the face of the planet. I know, I know, I'm the mom, I have to say things like that, but I think it just may be true. The kittens have been formally named Sheldon and Sawyer. Sheldon is my favorite character on "The Big Bang Theory" and Sawyer is Marc's fave from Lost. To be honest, I think I have run out of Lord of the Ring names. I blame the time we bought a pet rat for Gracie and she had 11 babies 3 weeks after we brought her home. We pretty much used up the entire cast of Lord of the Rings on them.
The critter drama will come into play as the kittens get acquainted with the rest of the gang. They have already met Pippin the bunny, who promptly tried to...well...romance them, without the benefit of candy or flowers. Mini, the dog, is not impressed. She's still trying to get over Pippin being here. She was mildly interested, and did a bit of bum sniffing at first, but had now decided that Sheldon and Sawyer can only mean trouble. This, of course, is probably true. There's no word on what the chickens think, as they have not met the kittens yet.
I am, for all intents and purposes, in love.
On the subject of critter drama, we have recently acquired two new kittens. Marc and Grace went to pick out a kitten yesterday. Grace has a friend whose aunt had a cat with kittens, bless her heart. Anyway, they came home with two of the sweetest, most adorable kittens on the face of the planet. I know, I know, I'm the mom, I have to say things like that, but I think it just may be true. The kittens have been formally named Sheldon and Sawyer. Sheldon is my favorite character on "The Big Bang Theory" and Sawyer is Marc's fave from Lost. To be honest, I think I have run out of Lord of the Ring names. I blame the time we bought a pet rat for Gracie and she had 11 babies 3 weeks after we brought her home. We pretty much used up the entire cast of Lord of the Rings on them.
The critter drama will come into play as the kittens get acquainted with the rest of the gang. They have already met Pippin the bunny, who promptly tried to...well...romance them, without the benefit of candy or flowers. Mini, the dog, is not impressed. She's still trying to get over Pippin being here. She was mildly interested, and did a bit of bum sniffing at first, but had now decided that Sheldon and Sawyer can only mean trouble. This, of course, is probably true. There's no word on what the chickens think, as they have not met the kittens yet.
I am, for all intents and purposes, in love.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
No HovaBator...yet.
So, The HovaBator hasn't arrived yet. I know, I know. Given the whole six to eight business days shipping policy, it would make more sense to start expecting an arrival at, maybe, the sixth day. But that's just not me. Marc, my husband, ordered car parts on Monday, and got them yesterday when he accosted the UPS guy in town and literally asked him, "So...you got anything for me?" I'm not saying he actually went looking for the UPS guy, but...
In any case, I'm waiting at home patiently. My hens keep cranking out the eggs, although Marc says we should wait until the incubator comes before we start collecting those destined to be future poopers on the porch and layers in bunny's bed. Marc also says the roosters that we get will have to be killed. Seriously? It didn't say anything about offing roosters in The HovaBator info from Ebay. Of course I understand the logic of it. Roosters are hardwired to care for and protect a flock of hens. One rooster per flock. We will only have one flock, even with the new hens. And Bruce, bless his mighty and somewhat foolish heart, is head rooster. Once the hormones hit, any young roosters we have will be strongly inclined to spend their days fighting each other and trying to get at the hens. Wait, that sounds vaguely familiar...
In any case, it's not a life if they are never going to actually get any hens, and it will just be chaos out there. It's the practical, farmerish thing to do. Marc is the practical farmerish one in this operation. Thanks to the internet I have a fair bit of knowledge about raising chickens, and due to the constant presence of bread in my pockets they do tend to see me as a bit of a god, but I'm not very practical. I want to put plastic flowers in their coop yard, to brighten the place up a bit. I still have several "special" eggs stored in my fridge - the largest one, the smallest (a green one the size of an olive), a blue Americana egg and an egg that has wrinkles in the shell, just because it is interesting, just to name a few.
Marc is the one who does any "offing" that needs doing, who disposes of dead bodies, etc. Although a few days ago he found a mouse in the dog's food bag on the porch, and he implemented a new "catch & release" policy, letting it go where he claims it won't be able to return. Where...Paris? I did wonder how much of the new policy is based on the fact that the night before we had watched the movie, Alvin & The Chipmunks, The Squeakquel.
All I can say is that when I am choosing the eggs to be incubated, I am going to be seriously praying that I am choosing hens and not roosters. Yes, yes, yes, I know we are going to end up eating them if they don't hatch. Don't confuse the issue with facts. The point is, eating an egg with cheese, a bit of basil and a tomato slice is a lot easier that wrangling the neck of a fluffy chick. I'm thinking the catch & release option won't work here, either.
Help!
In any case, I'm waiting at home patiently. My hens keep cranking out the eggs, although Marc says we should wait until the incubator comes before we start collecting those destined to be future poopers on the porch and layers in bunny's bed. Marc also says the roosters that we get will have to be killed. Seriously? It didn't say anything about offing roosters in The HovaBator info from Ebay. Of course I understand the logic of it. Roosters are hardwired to care for and protect a flock of hens. One rooster per flock. We will only have one flock, even with the new hens. And Bruce, bless his mighty and somewhat foolish heart, is head rooster. Once the hormones hit, any young roosters we have will be strongly inclined to spend their days fighting each other and trying to get at the hens. Wait, that sounds vaguely familiar...
In any case, it's not a life if they are never going to actually get any hens, and it will just be chaos out there. It's the practical, farmerish thing to do. Marc is the practical farmerish one in this operation. Thanks to the internet I have a fair bit of knowledge about raising chickens, and due to the constant presence of bread in my pockets they do tend to see me as a bit of a god, but I'm not very practical. I want to put plastic flowers in their coop yard, to brighten the place up a bit. I still have several "special" eggs stored in my fridge - the largest one, the smallest (a green one the size of an olive), a blue Americana egg and an egg that has wrinkles in the shell, just because it is interesting, just to name a few.
Marc is the one who does any "offing" that needs doing, who disposes of dead bodies, etc. Although a few days ago he found a mouse in the dog's food bag on the porch, and he implemented a new "catch & release" policy, letting it go where he claims it won't be able to return. Where...Paris? I did wonder how much of the new policy is based on the fact that the night before we had watched the movie, Alvin & The Chipmunks, The Squeakquel.
All I can say is that when I am choosing the eggs to be incubated, I am going to be seriously praying that I am choosing hens and not roosters. Yes, yes, yes, I know we are going to end up eating them if they don't hatch. Don't confuse the issue with facts. The point is, eating an egg with cheese, a bit of basil and a tomato slice is a lot easier that wrangling the neck of a fluffy chick. I'm thinking the catch & release option won't work here, either.
Help!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Bring on the HovaBator
Is it just me, or is HovaBator a really cool word?
The HovaBator is the incubator that I ordered for my chicken eggs. This thing is fully loaded, complete with thermometer, snap action thermostat and easy-to-clean sanitary liner. It has two 5" x 4" viewing windows and moisture rings built into the liner. It fits both chicken and quail sized eggs, has an automatic egg turner and is even dishwasher safe! Does that mean it'll survive a turn through the sink with Gracie? Because I know of several wine glasses that were also supposed to be dishwasher safe that are, sadly, no longer with us. But I digress.
I think it's probably a pretty standard model as far as incubators go, but with a name like The HovaBator, it's got to be special. I confess that in my mind, every time I read the words The HovaBator, I hear them being bellowed by a monster truck rally announcer over a stadium sound system.
I am very excited about this blog. It did occur to me, though, that while my heart's desire was to chronicle the progression my eggs will go through, from breakfast food to fluffy chicks, the process mostly involves waiting. Three weeks of waiting while my eggs sit in The HovaBator, with six automatic turns a day and all the heat and moisture that they'll need. So, what does one write about while watching eggs sit in The HovaBator for three weeks?
Will there be other stories? Will the chickens currently scratching around on the front lawn provide adequate antics for three weeks of waiting? Will Pippin the bunny and Bruce the rooster come face to face in an epic battle for supremacy? (Okay, that entire last sentence was in monster truck announcer guy mode)
We'll just have to wait and see, now, won't we?
The HovaBator is the incubator that I ordered for my chicken eggs. This thing is fully loaded, complete with thermometer, snap action thermostat and easy-to-clean sanitary liner. It has two 5" x 4" viewing windows and moisture rings built into the liner. It fits both chicken and quail sized eggs, has an automatic egg turner and is even dishwasher safe! Does that mean it'll survive a turn through the sink with Gracie? Because I know of several wine glasses that were also supposed to be dishwasher safe that are, sadly, no longer with us. But I digress.
I think it's probably a pretty standard model as far as incubators go, but with a name like The HovaBator, it's got to be special. I confess that in my mind, every time I read the words The HovaBator, I hear them being bellowed by a monster truck rally announcer over a stadium sound system.
I am very excited about this blog. It did occur to me, though, that while my heart's desire was to chronicle the progression my eggs will go through, from breakfast food to fluffy chicks, the process mostly involves waiting. Three weeks of waiting while my eggs sit in The HovaBator, with six automatic turns a day and all the heat and moisture that they'll need. So, what does one write about while watching eggs sit in The HovaBator for three weeks?
Will there be other stories? Will the chickens currently scratching around on the front lawn provide adequate antics for three weeks of waiting? Will Pippin the bunny and Bruce the rooster come face to face in an epic battle for supremacy? (Okay, that entire last sentence was in monster truck announcer guy mode)
We'll just have to wait and see, now, won't we?
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