I always feel so odd arriving at the back door of the post office stating, "I'm here for the chicks." Every time I expect there to be an awkward pause, a knowing look, and an eager flurry of activity with a "Get these things out of here!" to send me on my way. But usually the post office staff seem non-plused as if a hundred live animals cooped up in a box sits waiting in their office every day. They act as if it's run of the mill. It usually makes me shrug and think, "Yet another reason why I love living in rural America."
Thankfully, this time around the cheeping little ones in the box in the back of my station wagon were a quiet and happy soundtrack to accompany me on my way back to the farm. In times past I've had six of more of these loaded boxes stacked all around me into the passenger seat and cab of the farm truck. (Unfortunately, they can't go in the bed because the chicks would freeze in the wind.) You can only imagine the protesting cacophony from a thousand day-old beaks and the stink of chicken poo assaulting my nostrils all the way home. Yes, this afternoon's pick-up was WAY better.
My husband, the expert (10,000+ chicks in 4 years might have done the trick), set up the brooder earlier this week. With a deep layer of sawdust in our clean hoophouse, he used 24-inch-high plywood planks to create an 8-foot ring in the room. This ring has plenty of space for these active little ones to zoom around, but it is still relatively small. Until cold weather has passed it is crucial that the chicks be able to locate the group huddle for warmth -- the cozier the space, the easier for them to keep track of one another. Naturally, it's also a must to have a heat source at this time of year. When we were in business raising thousands of chickens throughout the season, we used propane hovers. For our smaller homestead batch of birds we stuck with the classic red-bulb heat lamp. This particular one has four bulbs with a rudimentary thermostat. We keep two thermometers in the brooder at all times -- one right under the heat lamp that should read around 100F and the other as far from the heat as possible to gauge the ambient temperature. To keep the young chicks from eating the sawdust, Weldon used a generous layer of pine shavings on the floor of the brooder. With a couple sheets of newspaper, a heap of natural chick crumble on each paper, and two 1-gallon waterers set on 2x4 blocks, the brooder sat waiting for its inhabitants to arrive this afternoon.
The chicks and I were welcomed by my mother-in-law, another veteran Chick Brooder, who met me in the driveway and was ready for action. Before we unloaded the chicks from their transport box she filled the waterers with slightly warm water. Just like a baby's bottle, this warms the chicks from the inside out and helps them acclimate from their long journey to their new environment. Then we carefully took each chick from it's crowded quarters, pecked it's beak in the water as a homing tactic (they don't call them bird-brains for nothing), and sent them on their hysterical way.To watch a batch of chicks in the brooder for the first time is amusing to say the least. By this time Weldon had joined us and we three stood mesmerized with silly grins on our faces trying to point out one entertaining scene before our attention was abruptly diverted to another. One little guy sped across the open center of the ring like a pinball only to have his infant legs wipe out underneath him...twice. Another clump of chicks were tenaciously defending a shred of pine shaving that none of them had yet deduced is not edible. At least two or three stood motionless with one leg in the warm water as if they were unsure of what planet they were on. And as they all filled their little gullets with warm water and discovered the comforting rays of the red bulbs overhead, a few dozen eventually clustered into a sort of pleasure coma in the center of the ring. As a whole, the entire lot of a hundred was charged with contented energy as if they'd just arrived at a family reunion in paradise.
That won't be the last time today we see our new arrivals. The nighttime scene is far more docile. The sleeping brood will likely be huddled in a giant fuzzy mass under the dimly glowing red light. For the next few nights Weldon will check the thermometers, adjust the lamp as needed, be sure they have water, and corral any loner chicks back into the fold. Even a small group that is too far from the heat lamp can freeze to death on a cold night...strength in numbers was never more accurate a phrase. Eventually, spring evenings will be warmer, the chicks will grow hardier, these nightly visits will dissipate, and the heat lamp won't be needed.
As with all our animals on the homestead, these birds serve a purpose. In the coming months, this flock will outgrow the plywood ring and take over the whole hoophouse and eventually relocate to range shelters in lush pasture. They will feather out, mature, and athletically dart from here to there gorging themselves on grass, grubs, and bugs. In eight to ten weeks they'll be fully mature and our family will process them for meat to restock our freezers for the coming year. I realize this is a difficult cycle for some to come to grips with, but it's a necessary one that we embrace on our farm. Don't be surprised if there's another post when it comes to processing day. But that's quite a ways away...nearly when spring will yield its tenure to summer. For now, the chicks are digging the brooder.
They are so cute! Happy Easter!
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