All About That Space, and Sexing Chicks

Leaving this place was the beginning of our journey home, eight months ago.

Here, Thomas and I had been welcomed graciously. to live for a month.

Here, my friends and I incubated an idea. In these spaces, so well suited to teaching garden and kitchen basics, we had done just that, with the always impressive residents and students of Fundación Niños de los Andes.

As we left to catch a taxi to the bus station, to begin the long trek back home from Manizales, Colombia, I turned and took these photos, in a moment of reverence for the role this place, and its specific attributes, played in realizing a dream.

Call it an eternal soft spot for the unsung hero, but I think thinking about the silent stoic spot in which something is supposed to happen is also pragmatic.

You have to plan the void, it's step one in most projects. So goes it with a workshop, a blog, a home, a garden, a brooding box, you know, your average wannabe backyard farmer's usual domains.

Back home, and a whole fall and winter later, we are now entering year eight of domestic hen management, and have decided to bring some new little ladies onto the team.

Sure, it's fun to shop breeds and dream up cute office lady names (I WILL HAVE MY BRENDA!) but before hitting the feed store to pick up the li'l peepers, we must make sure they have a place to stay that meets all of their itty bitty cute wittle needs. As adorably fluffy as they are, their body temperature still can't sustain a long time away from a heat lamp, so their spot must be ready for them immediately. Commence: void planning.

We start with the box.

You can go different ways with this, depending on what you have handy, but I like something high-walled and sturdy. Over the years, this part of an old tool trunk has been home to not only chicks, but ducks, puppies, and kittens.

For chicks, we use a couple of inches of shredded pine bedding to keep them warm and cleanish. I change it out weekly when they're a couple of weeks old.

For the feeder and water dispenser, it's a good idea to create a sturdy base first, with a heavy plate. This minimizes the amount of bedding that invariably finds its way into the food and water.

Slap a heat lamp on that bad boy and you're done! 

The heat lamp is essential, and is usually easy to purchase wherever chicks are sold. Baby chickens cannot keep themselves warm enough without one. 

But here's the equally important spot, far from the warmth of the heat lamp.

Why does this cool zone matter so much to the health of young hatchlings?

Because they must be able to move across a spectrum of temperatures, as the larger ambient temperature fluctuates throughout the day. Warm, cool, and all points in between: they need the range and freedom so that they adjust their location and stay healthy. It's also not a bad idea to park the food and water in the middle, so it doesn't get bacteria-nurturingly warm, nor tummy-chilling cold.

Oh yeah,  if you have any curious critters sharing the space, be sure to get something sturdy to cover it, that doesn't trap the heat or air inside the box.

"What? I only want to play with them! (with my claws and teeth)"

So, it was off to the farm store to buy some babies. Only this time, while we love and care for them fully, we are also holding them at arm's length for the first time, and here's why. And how. 

Why: These chicks were bought "straight run," which means their sex has not yet been determined. Seven years ago, our first flock ended up being 50% failure, despite having been "sexed." Our backyard farm is an arcane example of gender inequality: Hens Only. So, when we heard cockadoodledoodling, we had to send two of our beloved babies packing . 

This year, when we found out the only chicks available immediately were straight run, it should have meant no chicks for us, for another month or so. But, we took to the internet and discovered that with some breeds, you can compare chicks and look for several physical traits and try to buy only females. 

Thomas was tasked with making the cheat sheet, on sexing Barred Rock chicks, for us to take with us to the farm store. It was a meeting of the minds, down at the co-op, as Geza, Thomas, and I compared foot color and head spots, gently extended tiny wings, and generally bored the good staff of the store. We made our best guess and brought home these three.

"Did you just assume my gender?"

How: The plan this year was to acquire five chicks total. However, instead of buying five straight run chicks, we only bought three. This leaves room for some losses, and gives us a chance to buy a few more chicks later, when sex-link breeds (chicks whose markings indicate their sex) will be available.

The cold fact is, any and all of these baby birds may only spend a few months here before crowing one day and moving out the next.  That'd be sad, but here's an old farm trick for keeping baby animals you want to cuddle, despite the fact that one day you might turn on them and kick them out or cut their heads off: No names, office lady or otherwise.

Seven years of doing this, okay? We're not brooding little babies, we're fully feathered flocksters! We can be tough and zen and grown-up about things. We will give this time more space, wait, and only name the ones we are sure are staying. 

Except you, Brenda, even if you are a rooster.