We're Going All Natural

Last night, after careful consideration and much procrastinating, I turned off the incubator. But worry not! Because I gave the three fertile eggs to the serama pancake formally known as Vera. To my amazement and great relief, she looked at the eggs in front of her and then tapped them a bit with her beak. After a moments consideration, she scooped them under her wing one by one and wriggled about a bit until she was comfortable. I have officially placed all of my precious eggs in one basket.

I decided to go down this route for several reasons. After candling, I was relatively certain that Vera only had two fertile eggs. But the egg shell meant that I wasn't entirely sure, so I left it another twenty four hours and candled again. The egg lit up like a fairy light, but I could still see a dark mass. And the dark mass appeared to be slowly moving. It was definitely not as developed as the other embryo's, though, so I assumed that this embryo had died at some point and I decided to discard it and give Vera the remaining eggs. Once she was happily settled, I took the dud egg in to the kitchen.

Bracing myself, I decided to crack it open to see exactly what was going on. It took me a few minutes to pluck up the courage. Like most novices, I am so terribly afraid of getting it wrong. I had visions of cracking the egg only to find a tiny, viable embryo. In my rather over-active imagination, I could see a tiny chick turning to me with a reproachful look, and then I'd have to stick my head in the oven to make amends for wanton chick murder. Of course, when I cracked it I found a perfectly formed but unfertilised yolk. With slow dawning, I realised that the dark mass I'd seen slowly moving was probably this exact yolk suspended in the albumen. What a muppet.

So now it's all down to Vera.

The Waiting Game

Well, here we are two days in to the serama hatching experiment. The incubator is busy whirring away, and rotating the eggs every forty minutes. When it does this, it sounds a tinkling alarm which has never failed to make me jump, and make the ever tolerant husband roll his eyes. If he thinks that's annoying, just wait until I break the news that any resultant chicks might have to live in the downstairs loo.

Vera is so far sticking with it. Up until yesterday, I was lifting her from the nest to make sure that she ate and drank, but today I have just observed her. She seems to come around from her broody trance around lunchtime for about ten minutes. Today, I just so happened to be in the garage when I heard the trademark anxious broody chuntering, and saw Vera pacing at the hutch door. I opened it for her, and she leapt on to the floor and scarpered out of the garage door. I confess that at this moment I had a moment of panic. I needn't have worried.

Vera ran straight across the patio to the lawn and ripped up great beakfuls of grass. Bolting it down, she legged it over to the dust bath and rolled about for about thirty seconds. Personal grroming dealt with, she shook herself  on the patio and assumed that look of pensive contemplation that chickens make before they poo. Having evacuated a dropping almost as big as she was, she ran to a puddle to drink. Betsy was following her pal around the whole time, but backed off considerably upon the arrival of Giant Evil Faeces Monster. Can't say that I blame her.

Thirst slaked, Vera stood tall for a moment, surveying the garden and the other hens. Then she chuntered and ran back to the garage, jumped up in to her hutch and returned to her nest. The last I heard, she was fussing around her eggs and getting comfortable. Betsy arrived at the garage door, and we looked at one another. Vera's appearance had been short and sweet, and I imagine that the way she had packed an entire day of chickenny activities in to five minutes was rather bewildering to her micro chicken friend. As a gesture of sympathy, I gave Betsy a few grains of corn.

I'm not too concerned that Betsy is lonely, though. She is showing an amazing amount of pluck. Over the last few days, she has begun sneaking in to the Palace run and sitting on the perches. Sometimes the other hens wander in, and she stays still and silent, watching them. Yesterday, Maude spotted her sitting there and I thought we might have a bit of fisticuffs. But after a moment, Maude went back to slurping from the drinker and then mooched back out. This morning, I could hear Betsy but not hear her. I found her sitting in the Palace on the perching block, chattering to the grumpy and stubbornly broody Hilda. Hilda glared, but made no move to eat the little hen so I'd say that's progress.

Perhaps acceptance is in the offing?

Look What The Postman Bought Me today

The new incubator has arrived! As I type, it is plugged in next to me, whirring it's way to optimum hatching conditions. I am very impressed. Compared to my little Covatutto 6 manual incy that I hatched the meeps in last year, it's a technological age away. If the new incy is a supercar, the old one is a horse and cart. Where the horse is old. And possibly a bit lame.

Look at it's lovely shininess!

The super intimidating control panel.

Now, this particular outing is just to check that it all works, and also to try and decipher the instructions. I swear that NASA sent man to the moon with less programming. Still, the fact that it is so adjustable was the entire point in purchasing it. My friend is planning on a fairly straight forward large fowl hatch, but my serama experiment requires something that can be fine tuned. With any luck, and a lot of advice from the UK Serama Forum, I should be able to tweak the conditions within the incubator to give me optimum hatching results.

Roll on April.

A New Venture

I am excited. Happy, smiley and very excited. I have just gone halves on a Brinsea Mini Advance incubator with a friend of mine. I might have also just purchased a quail tray which will fit teeny serama eggs perfectly. This particular adventure is go!

It'll be a few days before the shiny new incy will be in my dirty little paws, but that's ok. I'm not intending on setting any eggs until next month anyway. That is if I can find any eggs to set. Tracking down a breeder who will sell me fertile eggs is proving rather difficult. There are a few eggs for sale on ebay, but as I've been told by those in the know that serama eggs don't travel well I am reluctant to go down that route. I have a month to try and find a breeder willing to part with a few precious eggs, so if anyone reading this thinks they may be able to help please don't be shy.

My friend is planning on starting his hatching journey with a half dozen Light Sussex eggs. Having only hatched pekins, I am quite interested in how his hatch will go. I have recommended Chicken Street as a potential supplier of eggs, and he is planning on taking the family on a day trip. I am secretly wondering what he will come back with once he sees the variety on offer.

And another one falls under the poultry spell.....

Death And The Birth Of Ideas

Just as you think that spring is here to stay, it wanders off again leaving cold, wet greyness in its wake. Humph. When Purdy decided to leave this mortal coil she appears to have taken the sun with her. The birds and I stare at each other in dejected grumpiness. Even Maeve seems to have lost some of her vavavoom. She hasn't battered anyone in days.

In an effort to amuse themselves, the girls broke through my border protecting barrier while I was otherwise occupied. I caught them happily rampaging through clumps of spring bulbs and merrily digging around fresh shoots. They managed to nibble a considerable amount of foliage before they were firmly ejected. To be fair to them, Gladys and Maude managed to look at least slightly embarassed at being caught, and shuffled and muttered a bit. Not everyone has a conscience, though. Hilda continued dust bathing while I turfed her flock mates back on to the lawn and glared at me as if I was the one tresspassing. She shook herself all over my wellies in disgust before stalking back to the Palace to lay.

Betsy and Vera have settled in to their new premises well. They are gradually getting the hang of the ramp, although neither have so far ventured forth in to the washing-up bowl nest box. I'm hoping that Betsy will get the idea in the next few days and lay me an egg. At the moment it seems to be taking all of her concentration and brain power just to avoid falling down the ramp opening. Vera seems to have a better grasp of gravity at this stage, and can sometimes be heard issuing a warning bok-ARK as Betsy falls through the trap door.

Since losing Purdy, I confess to toying with the idea of hatching again. I still have my little incy in the garage which hatched the meeps last year. However, I find myself looking at more sophisticated incubators on ebay.  The idea that you pop your fertile eggs in one day, press 'go' and then come back 3 weeks later to chicks is very tempting. Don't worry, I know that it requires more thought. Last year I was very lucky to find all of my cockerel chicks good homes. I am well aware that that is not always the case, and boy chickens will always be a part of hatching.

The thing is, with the right incubator and a bit of research, I'd love to have a go at hatching serama....

Pipping

We have a pipper! I have just returned from the school run to find that one of the eggs has a teeny, tiny crack in it. Although I was certain it wasn't there before, I began to wonder if it might have been accidently damaged. But then it cheeped at me. I doubt I'll move from the side of the incubator all day now.

Expect updates as and when they happen.

Day3 / Day 4

The entire flock is, at the moment, back in lay. There are crouching hens everywhere, tripping me up when I go out to hang out the washing and interupting the children's football games. Egg production is up, and pelet consumption has gone crazy. During the winter, I was filling the feeder around once a week. Right now, it needs refilling every other day. The girls have big appetites.

The hot weather continues, so they are also powering through their water. I have to keep a close eye on it, as it's not uncommon for them to totally empty a full drinker by late afternoon. When they see me coming across the lawn with fresh, cool water I pick up a following. Before I've put the drinker down, there are small fluffy chicken heads diving in to it.

The balmy temperatures continue to cause me problems with regards to the hatching. In order to keep the incy temp down, I have taken to propping up one side of the cover with a pencil. This small extra ventilation seems to be working, but does lower humidity unfortunately. It is a delicate balancing act, and at this stage I am seriously winging it. Advice differs so greatly, that I've given up on asking. However, at candling yesterday I am pleased to report that there were five viable embryos. A small foetus could be seen, along with a complicated pattern of blood vessels. I confess to letting out a small squeal of delight.

The other egg was a dud. I could see the clear yolk, and more conclusively, the red ring around it. I have dubbed this the 'red ring of death'. It is bacterial growth, and marks the beginning of the egg turning bad. I assume that this egg was infertile to begin with, and being slow cooked for four days has speeded up the decomposition process. I rechecked it from every concievable angle before tossing it. A bad egg has the potential to explode in the incubator, spreading infection to the viable embryos.

So now they are five.

Day 1/Day 2

Yesterday was not a good day. The temperature in the incubator was hovering around the 40C mark, occasionally nudging towards the fatal 41C. I opened windows and doors, fiddled with the incubator and eventually added water to up the humidity and lower the temp. Nothing much worked.

As afternoon rolled in to evening, the temp slid down to a perfect 38.5C. I was dispondent, and more or less accepting of the fact that my eggs would be ruined. However, some wonderful people on the Omlet forum told me not to give up hope, so I have persevered. Today, I kept the incy a little bit open, and the temp has reached a maximum of 39.5C during the hottest part of the day. This isn't perfect, but it shouldn't be fatal. Hopefully, because the temp issue has occurred so early on, no serious harm will have occurred.

If I seem particularly optimistic, it's because I am. What I have yet to mention, is that this morning I candled the eggs. I did so with a heavy heart, fearing that they would all be curdled. However, three of the eggs had clearly defined dark spots, and several fine veins. The other three were harder to see. I think that the shells on these eggs are thicker, and it's just too early to see much. With renewed determination, I replaced the eggs and have kept a close eye on the temp, adjusting as necessary.

The brooding continues.

Day 0

Sometimes life surprises you. Today I recieved a humidity gauge in the post, sent by a fellow poultry lover I know through Twitter. I am deeply touched by this act of kindness, and delighted that I can now stare obsessively at the little dial, worrying about any tiny deviation. My anxiety needs direction.

Today is officially day 0, or the day on which the eggs are set. The incy has been running since wednesday evening without problems, but upon measuring the humidity it was reading at 60%. This is a bit too high, so I emptied the water well and allowed it to run 'dry'. This has brought the level down to between 40% and 50%, which is the best I can hope for in this weather I suspect. The eggs have been marked with an R and an L, so that as I turn them I can keep track. I lovingly placed them in the incy just after lunch.

The digital thermometer for the incy has not shown up yet, so I have been checking the temp with an oral digital thermometer. I think the temp is right. I hope the temp is right. When the proper thermometer arrives, I will be reluctant to check it officially, just in case I've got it hideously wrong. I am happy in my ignorance.

Kiki has gotten over her broody spell, and decided to celebrate by exploding all over the garden. She resembles a moth eaten feather duster, and the other hens are all accented by stray silkie fluff. Doris did a disturbed lap of the garden earlier in an attempt to shake one from her forehead. I had to take pity on her in the end and remove it. Maeve has decided that any in flight feathers are edible, and can be seen energetically jumping after any which get taken by a breeze as Kiki road-runners past. The coop has drifts of fluff at its corners.

I may take the dyson to her tomorrow.

...And We're Off!

Yesterday, I set up my tiny incubator in the garage and let it run over night. I measured the temp with a normal mercury thermometer, and the reading was far too high. Adding another thermometer, I got a reading that was far too low. So I have a digital hatching thermometer on its way. I have moved the incy in to the living room in the hope that the more stable temperature will be more suitable than the garage, where the day temps were fine but the night temps were fluctuating rather too much.

The eggs are here! And, I didn't drop them! Yet. Ahem. They are currently resting, pointed end down, in an egg box in the kitchen (hoping that the humidity will be a bit higher). Some of the eggs are a bit long and pointy, so not ideal, but I'm going to set them anyway and see what happens.

           The tiny covatutto 6 incy, my accidental ebay purchase. The light bulb is the heat source.

The eggs. Four seem to be a good shape and size to me, while the other two are a little questionable.

Tomorrow afternoon, I hope to be setting them. Wish me luck!

Embarking On The Adventure

Ok, who was I kidding? The incubator is ready to go, and there are now six frizzle pekin eggs winging there way to my door. Hopefully, they will arrive tomorrow morning. I am currently awaiting a phone call from my vet, and hopefully he will agree to cull any resulting males if I can't find them homes. Obviously, I hope that I will be able to, but I feel it's best to have a back up plan in place. Gulp.

The ever tolerant husband is ignoring the whole process, which is probably best. The children are excited, but cautious as I have been careful to point out all that could go wrong. Any resulting hatchlings will be brooded in the garage, the plan being that no small people will therefore get attached before we know which (if any) we can keep. I fully expect to get attached, and weep bitter tears if any rehoming/culling has to occur.

The plan is to document each stage of the incubation and hatching, so tomorrow I'll post pics of my ridiculously basic incubator (think fish bowl with a light bulb in the middle). Hopefully, I'll also be able to include pics of the eggs. All I need now is a large dose of courage.

The chooks are not enjoying the unseasonable heat wave. Much bad natured chuntering has occured, along with the odd vicious peck. When allowed to free range, they stick to the shady borders. The coop gets very warm during the afternoon, and a couple of enterprising ladies have started laying in the dust bath. I've thoroughly investigated the housing, and there is no sign of redmite or any other pest. I think they just prefer the cool sand on their bums.

Treats have mainly consisted of frozen peas and tomatoes from the fridge. These chicken ice pops are recieved gratefully and with gusto. The pellets remain largely untouched, and egg production is down. However, Celia has joined the laying ranks and the scatty silkie sisters have decided that being broody is a bit pointless.

Theoretically, I should be buried in eggs any day now.

Decision Time

Right, I have contacted every pekin breeder listed within a fifty mile radius and no one has any frizzles for sale. In fact, some don't even have eggs, what with the pekins love of brooding. Up and down the country, nest boxes are filled with flattened hens staring off in to the distance and muttering absently.

So yesterday, I recovered my accidental ebay purchase incubator from the understairs cupboard. I switched it on, just to test, and discovered that the bulb had gone. Bum. Just in case I should ever need it, I thought i really ought to buy some more bulbs. I also thought that buying some poultry disinfectant might be wise. This morning, at early o'clock, the postie delivered my bulbs. Now my incubator works wonderfully, and I have a few spare bulbs, just in case. I also found a small amount of disinfectant in the garage, so it is technically ready to be used, should I ever need to.

Purely out of interest, I rang 'round a few breeders this morning in case any might be selling hatching eggs. I was referred back to the pekins love of pancake impersonation, and advised that frizzle pekin eggs are unlikely to become available until early autumn. Hmmm.

Innocently trawling ebay, I have found a well known seller with six frizzle eggs for sale. My finger keeps hovering over the bid button. I very much want my frizzle, but I also need to think about the practicalities of homing the inevitable boys.

Decisions, decisions......

An Accidental Purchase

I have had an accident. A terrible, ebay related accident. I was perusing chickenny stuff (as you do) when I saw a second hand manual incubator. Just a little, hobbyist one. I watched in horror as my fingers danced across the keyboard, and made a bid. I then watched in even more horror as the end of the auction dawned, and my bid won. Oops.

The ever tolerant husband has so far said nothing. I suspect he is biding his time. At some point, he will no doubt raise this accidental aquisition, and inquire as to my intentions. I have no idea what I will tell him.

Yes, in an ideal world, I would love to hatch some frizzle pekins. On first glance, it all seems like a Very Good Idea. However, I'm not completely clueless. Hatching chicks comes with responsibilities. The greatest of these responsibilities as far as I'm concerned is dealing with the resultant boys. I would love to keep a cockerel, but it is just not going to happen. So then you have a problem. There are many more cockerels hatched every year than will ever be needed. Indeed, it can be hard to even give them away. Responsible breeders often choose to cull any male chicks as soon as they're identifiable. I want to be responsible, and that is what is giving me pause for thought.

If I do hatch, I will only be popping three or four eggs in to the incubator. Out of those eggs, it's concievable that two could hatch boys. It is possible to rehome such a small number, perhaps, but it is in no way guaranteed.

More thought required.