Manic Mama!

It was a peaceful day at Busy Solitude Farm.  All the animals went outside in the brilliant spring sunshine.  The grass even perked up for St. Patrick's Day.  That's Abe (no mice in evidence!) under the tree, pussy footing around the yard.

I thought I'd take a look in the barn.  One of the Cuckoo Marans hens has been setting for three weeks.  I am eager to see if she hatches anyone.  So far the couple of eggs she's pushed out of the nest showed no sign of development.  I also hope to buy a few chicks at the feed store to put under her, so that I won't have to worry about the heat lamp.  I'm even considering a pair of Indian Runner Ducks, just for the fun of them!

When I went into the barn, all the hens came clickety cluckety to see what tasty morsels I might have for them.  As I scattered the scratch I looked in the nest box and what did I see?  Eleven eggs and no hen!  Where was the Mama??

This is the view out the chickens' hatch door to the outside.  Quite muddy, eh?  I like to leave the overgrown remains of the weeds there as a bit of protection against birds of prey.  Just a diversion while the chickens, hopefully, race up the ramp and back into the safety of the barn.  But I digress.  Where is the Mama?

Well, if you look carefully, you'll see her in this picture.

She was furiously dancing in the duck's wading pool!  There's not much water in there at the moment, but all I could think was "oh, I know how it feels when you've been in bed for way too long and you just have to have a bath!"  Hormonal broody hens turn manic when they leave the eggs for any bit of time.  Their tails stick straight up, they squawk at anything that gets in their way:  "Need food!  Need water!  Need to poop!  Time's-a-wasting, tick tock tick tock!"

I've never seen a broody leave the barn, however, while on nest duty, so I feared she'd given up.  I returned to the nest to gather the old, incubated eggs, figuring I would do the dreaded science experiment of cracking them open to see if anything was developing.  But when I touched the first one it was warm.  Quite warm, as if she had just fled the moment I first stepped into the barn.

I left nine of the 11 eggs in the nest.  Eleven is too many to fit under her, really, and could be the reason nothing's hatching.  And indeed, the two I opened were in states of partial development and rot.  BLECH!

When I returned to the barn half an hour later, Mama Broody was back on her nest, in her peaceful zen state.

Perhaps we'll get a blessed event after all.