Mindy and her Chicks (circa 1980) – photo courtesy of Fiona Campbell

Today’s Post is provided by UCP guest blogger, Fiona Campbell, an avid backyard chicken keeper living in rural Kapiti, New Zealand on fiveacres. Fiona is the author and illustrator of the book, “Ruby’s Diary,” which is a chicken memoir penned from the point of view of her top hen, Ruby.  The book cleverly considers what is important in life (which is remarkably the similar whether that be a human or chicken life).  You can join Fiona at her blog Ruby’s Diary, where Fiona’s pet hen Ruby waxes lyrically about life and happenings in her flock.  Fiona’s book, “Ruby’s Diary” is also available on her blog website, Ruby’s Diary Hen (LINK).  

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My pet chicken Mindy was a complete unit. In and of herself she was perfect. Her urban backyard and our family house were her domain. She lived solely focused on the here and now and wanted for nothing. I on the other hand, being eight years old, wanted baby chicks!

I grew up watching David Attenborough’s BBC Nature documentaries and consequently knew what was required when it came to getting chicks. As Mindy was mateless, I knew she needed help to achieve ‘her’ dream of becoming a mother. Taking on a rooster seemed much too challenging, so Mum and Dad suggested fertilized eggs instead.

When the time was right, my long-suffering mother drove me an hour out of town to a friend’s farm. The farmer gave us five fresh eggs from a motley crew of mixed-breed bantams. Knowing nothing about egg handling and setting fertilized eggs, my mother and I just stuck these eggs under our surprisingly pleasant and patient broody hen when we got home.

 Then we waited. And we waited and waited some more.

To a child, December in the run up to Christmas, time seems to pass at its slowest. Children are told that the hours and minutes are the same during Christmastime as any other time in the year, but they know the truth. During the Christmas season time slows by an exponential factor the closer it gets to Christmas day.

The slowed down pace of time in December didn’t hold a patch waiting 21 days for those eggs to hatch. I’m really not sure how I managed to not scare poor Mindy off the nest with my constant checking on and conversations with her and those five eggs. Unlike me, she truly was a patient soul!

Newly Hatched Chick – photo by Alyson Hunt

After the 21 longest days in history were up, we were still waiting. Waiting on incubating eggs is one of those experiences that can make you feel very powerless in the face of nature. Despite having marked the 21 days off the calendar, nature will still keep you guessing. The only reason I didn’t expire with frustration on that twenty-first day was that we had heard peeping coming from the eggs. Mindy quietly clucked and chatted back to her unhatched chicks. The conversation between mother hen and her chicks let us know that our wait would not be in vain.

As with many things in life, the minute you turn your back, all the action happens. Ask any horse breeder whether most foals are born when they are off on a five minute break from the barn. Maybe animals are private creatures like humans and do not want an audience at the intimate moment of child birth. Mindy’s adopted eggs all hatched while I was at school. When I came home that day, voilà – there were babies!

One, two, three  eggs hatched. Mindy was not at all interested in the remaining two unhatched eggs. We trusted her judgment, but still with some fear broke open these last two eggs to ensure there were no chicks in them. Mindy was right of course. She was already busily checking on and clucking to her new damp children. We removed all broken eggshells from the nest and left her to it.

Over the next couple of days these three chicks stayed in the nest with their mum. I supplemented their feed with very small pieces of food and shallow dishes of water. On the third day, Mindy and her chicks finally left the nest and entered the big, wide, urban backyard world.

Next… Chapter 3: Mindy’s Babies Grow Up.

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