Last hatch of the year

Three weeks ago we decided we were going to do one more hatch of chicks for the year.

Our first batch of chicks went to our neighbors...

...who transported them to their new home in a box.

With only twelve chicks from the second hatch (of which half, statistically, will be roosters), we decided to put in a third hatch.

Meanwhile, poor patient Smoky's eggs never hatched. Three weeks came and went, and not a peep from her clutch.

So, since she was still broody, I removed her old eggs...

...and gave her some fresh ones, wondering if she'd have the patience to stay on the job for another three weeks.

She did. Unfortunately the chicks were due to hatch yesterday, and I haven't seen any evidence that they're doing anything. Poor Smoky.

Last Friday it was time to take the incubator eggs out of the automatic turner, add water to the extra reservoir, and put the eggs on the screen in anticipation of the hatch.

Just in time, too. A few hours later, the first crack appeared.

Soon there were multiple eggs with cracks.

Time to clean out the brooder box from the last time. I tipped out the old sawdust...

...and got some fresh shavings from the shop...

...which I added to the box. Add a gooseneck lamp, and we're good to go.

First two chicks.

Here's a hatch from beginning to end. (Most of the photos were taken through the clear plastic top of the incubator, so the colors are a bit distorted.)

For this hatch, we gathered eggs from two other neighbor's flocks, so we could introduce some fresh bloodlines into our birds. Still, it came as a surprise when this chick hatched out -- yellow! All our birds have been dark or buff, so this was unexpected.

We ended up with three yellow chicks of various shades, so it will be fun to see what they grow up to look like.

A total of ten chicks hatched, and it looks like that's all we'll get from this batch. Once again the sound of soft peeping fills the house.

Meanwhile, poor Smokey was still setting, week after fruitless lonely week.

The solution was obvious, wasn't it? We gave her some chicks.

Unsure how well she'd take to chicks she didn't personally hatch, I scooped up two fuzzy guinea pigs (guinea chicks?) and carried them out to the barn.

Smoky is used to me, and the chicks were too startled to make any noise, so I scootched first one, then the other, under Smoky's ruffled feathers. Then I sat back to watch.

Well, at first the chicks did what ALL baby chicks do when they're in a dark and warm place. They fell asleep. (Chicks can do this more or less instantly.) So although Smoky seemed a bit startled at my invasive actions, she didn't really react since the chicks weren't making any noise.

Then they peeped. Oh my, that got her attention!

I left her alone for a few minutes, and when I checked back in, she had repositioned herself and looked a bit surprised, but quite smug. (Can you see the chick poking out her front?)

So, since she seemed accepting of new chicks, I brought out two more and shoveled them underneath her.

I also took the opportunity to remove the eggs. One broke as I did so (pee-yew!) but I tucked the others in the incubator just in case. I doubt they're fertile, though, as the undeveloped broken egg attested.

Smoky just couldn't seem to get over all the exciting changes happening underneath her.

Then she settled back down, looking about as pleased as a hen can look.

I had to go into Coeur d'Alene in the afternoon, so the moment I got home I checked her again. One of the chicks was out, watched attentively by mama.

Another chick poked its head out from under her wing to see what was happening.

Yes, we have a happy pen tonight, bedded down with her babies in the barn.

Lest we forget...

How to stop a nightmare

Click on this link for some serious awwww factor.

Misplaced compassion?

(See UPDATE at bottom.)

This afternoon while cleaning upstairs, I came across a baby mouse in a never-used sink.

Our house used to be three separate apartments (believe it or not), so we have a small half-kitchen upstairs. We don't have running water to this sink and it's never used. The slick stainless steel sides meant this little fella couldn't get out once he'd fallen in. How long had he been there? No idea, of course, but he seemed very weak.

I scooped him up in an old cup...

...and carried him out to the barn, where he started to crawl away.

But I couldn't leave him there. He was nearly falling over, and he had his eyes closed. So I gently put him back in the cup and brought him inside, where I ensconced him in a plastic container with a capful of water and a few crumbs of chicken crumbles.

He started nibbling at the crumbles right away.

I took a pipette and put a drop of water from the cap onto the floor of the container, which ended up soaking some of the crumbles. The baby seemed to prefer these (moist plus softer, I guess).

I'll let him regain some strength before releasing him into the barn.

I'm fully aware of what pests mice are, but somehow I couldn't let this helpless little creature loose into a strange place without at least a fighting chance of survival.

No doubt he'll grow up big and strong and migrate back into the house, father a dozen litters, and plague me for years to come.

Such are the dangers of misplaced compassion...

UPDATE: The baby died. Oh well, at least he died with something in his belly.

Guns don't kill people...

A friend sent me this.

I thought it was apropos, considering that we have two pretty daughters...

Hungry?

I like to think I'm adventurous when it comes to canning. I'm game to put just about anything in a jar.

But my adventurous nature pales in comparison to this fascinating little ditty over at a website called Buzzfeed entitled 30 Canned Foods You Never Knew Existed. They're right, I had no idea most of these existed. Thankfully.

For example, consider this: roasted scorpions! So nice in a salad!

Or bamboo worms (BBQ flavor!). The perky company trademark says "A tasty nutritious bug snack!"

Silkworm pupae, anyone? (Notice the fancy toothpicks in use.)

For the discriminating southwest palate: creamed armadillo (on the half-shell).

Never one to waste anything, how about pork brains in milk gravy? Don't eat this if you're watching your cholesterol, though... a serving has 3500 mg.

Canned tongues. Waste not, want not, I always say.

For a little crunch, try red curry grasshoppers.

And here I thought pea soup was exotic!

Go check out the rest of their repertoire.  Exciting stuff.

Bald-faced hornets

We have a fairly large bald-faced hornet nest on our front porch.

I'm guesstimating it's about eight inches in diameter (though -- ahem -- I'm not about to climb up on a ladder to measure it).

Bald-faced hornets are fearsome stingers who aggressively defend their nest... but only if disturbed.

It's fascinating to watch them add new layers as they enlarge it, though it seems like an awful lot of work for a temporary result.

We have no intention of trying to take it down since they haven't bothered anyone. The dogs are constantly in and out through the front door and under the nest, and no one has ever been stung.

Nests are abandoned by the end of the season (around November) when all the workers and drones die off, and any newly-fertilized queens burrow underground to hibernate.

So around December or so, we'll collect the nest, maybe dissect it to see what's inside.

Meanwhile, as long as we don't disturb them, the wasps pay us back by eating things like blow flies and those nasty flies that adore cow patties. I say, more power to 'em!