I am on my way this morning to pick up my just-hatched peeps. Like any “new mom” I am stressing about whether or not I am doing everything right. Is the brooder warm enough? Have I remembered everything that they will need for the first few days? I remind myself that chickens have been domesticated for nearly as long as we humans. Our ancestors did not have the fancy thermometers and heat lamps, and elaborate coops, but their chickens thrived all the same. I just need to relax because I know any anxiety that I am emitting will transfer to the chickens. They will be fine. I will be fine.
When I was caring for swans, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the cygnets being led about by the parents. I offered additional feed at the shoreline and the pen and the cob would cautiously bring their brood around to eat it. I adored them, but I was not responsible for their care and safety. A few years earlier I had helped to raise cygnets that we hatched in an incubator. Six hatched, but only three survived. Generally, one or two hatchlings are lost, in spite of the careful attention given to them by the most devoted swan parents. There was a pair that I looked after that hatched seven cygnets – the most I had seen in the time I spent there. I named them after the seven dwarves. Their picture is the one displayed at the top of my website. While the success rate in our breeding program was mostly successful, some were lost to snapping turtles or met with a similar demise. This is nature’s way and although I expect my baby chickens to thrive, I know that in spite of all the precautions I take, things can go wrong. Right now though, I will not entertain that thought. I am off to bring them to their new home. I will keep you posted in blogs to come.
