Operation Chickabiddy

Everyone needs a reason to live

In my life, I’ve had pets, and livestock, and while there has been some crossover, it didn’t happen often. Goats, and sheep, especially if I had bottle-fed them, got names and expectations of long life in companionship. Meat critters? Well, they sometimes got names, like the pigs my kids named Bertha and the Bacon Twins. Chickens, ducks and geese? Nope. Well. There was Theodore the rooster, but he was special in more than one way. Not many roosters will let a toddler pick them up and pack them around like a plush toy. We were all sad when something (fox, bobcat, coyote, neighbor’s dog… pick any one and it’s possible) got him in the night.

When I left the farm in New England, I never intended to have livestock again. Fast forward a decade, to soaring egg prices, an unused hot tub enclosure, and a friend with too many chicks. Suddenly, we had four pullets, and then, four laying hens.

Of course, I named them. Belinda the Brave, the Cuckoo Maran, was the first to approach when I’d come out to the coop bearing treats. Silver, rather unoriginally, was the Silver-laced Wyandotte. The two Easter eggers were Birdie and Ginger. Laying hens can live for several years, and having so few, I could see their personalities, rather than losing individuals in the swirling flocks of the farm.

Belinda went broody, which was a small surprise, but it’s instinct. No rooster in the flock doesn’t affect this behaviour. It was only when she’d been on the nest for a couple of weeks that I started to worry about her. I’d been taking her off and making sure she went for water and food, daily. Still, she was getting thin. I had a chat with my friend about broody hens, to see if she’d like to take Belinda back and raise a brood, or how to dissuade Belinda…

And the most obvious solution was suggested. Give Belinda what she wanted. It is early enough in the season that the local feed and seed has chicks. And so, Operation Chickabiddy was started.

The concept is simple - while the hen is sleeping, remove any eggs, pop some newborn chicks under her, and in the morning she’s succeeded in her mission. The problem was, when I went to find chicks, I was told all of them were two to three weeks old. Some of them had well-developed feathers. The sexed chicks looked the most mature. So I looked at the straight-run bantams, and decided the wee lil’ fluffs were my best bet. I can’t have roosters at my house, but my friend currently has no roosters (predators, naturally) so raising a couple for her would help both of us. Besides. Look at them. So cute! The black one is a Cochin-type with feather-feet!

After a stay of a few hours in a box with a heating mat under it, Belinda was asleep, and I was up far past my bedtime. I took them out to the coop. I didn’t know how well this was going to work. The chicks were old enough they might not imprint on the hen. The hen had never raised chicks before, and this technique is suggested for hens that have a proven track record of mothering, not a newly laying pullet who’d never even seen another hen mothering. But it was worth a try. She clucked sleepily at me, I tucked the chicks under her, and went away again.

The next morning I opened the laying coop door, uncertain what I’d find. Belinda went into full magnificent fluff defense pose, and did not want me to see her babies. I opted not to disturb her too much, as I could see two chicks when I lifted her partly, and they were trying to vanish further under their new Mama.

After two days, everyone is doing well. Chicks and Mama hen are eating and drinking. Belinda is staying with them in the laying coop (which is a few feet off the main coop floor) and likely will for a while. We will see what happens with time. Chickens always find creative ways to die. I’m not that attached to any of them as a result of decades of experience in that. Still, it’s a good feeling to give Belinda purpose to her life. Plus, we may get one or two more laying hens out of it, which would bring the flock up to full strength. And I’ll have a rooster for my friend.

We all need meaning in life. Helping Belinda has me thinking about my life, and what my meaning is. I’ve started writing again. Working on a passion project. I don’t know that it’s my meaning in life, but maybe. It does give me forward momentum for a time, just like raising the chicks will keep Belinda busy for months.