Our Chicken Saga: The Fox-Proof Rooster, and Hatching and Raising Chicks for the First Time

When I first married Carson, he had three hens and a rooster. The hens were getting kinda old, so they only laid an egg now and again. Our chickens were very free-range, and Carson tired of them roosting in the garage. He eventually let the hens go when they chose his table saw to lay their few eggs on. The eggs would roll and break, making it a gooey mess, and to top it off, chicken droppings were also all over it. Because of this, it would be a few years before we started hatching and raising chicks. We re-homed our messy hens to family members who already had a nice flock with a chicken coop.

Our rooster, however, was beautiful and had a very good temperament. He was gentle and not too skittish, with vibrant, brown, and gold-laced plumage and a black tail. He was a mixed breed with Americana and American Game genetics which Carson dubbed a good old “Missouri Mix”. We were a little too attached to part with our rooster. So then we had two dogs, a small herd of cows, a cat, and a pet rooster. We named our rooster Reuben. (Reuben is pictured in the image above the title resting next to our cat.)

Foxes

The following summer, a family of foxes moved into a neighbor’s hay barn across the road from us. We enjoyed watching them. Eventually, they started taking things from our compost pile. This drove our dog crazy. Being on a zip line due to having recently bothered a neighbor, he couldn’t do anything to stop the foxes. They quickly realized this and became even bolder. We weren’t too concerned, though, until one day Carson checked out the barn the foxes had made their den in. It was stacked full of feathers from neighbors all around. Some unique feathers in the stack indicated they had even raided a couple of farms away.

One evening, we heard a commotion and Carson caught one of the foxes carrying off Reuben, our rooster, in his mouth! Carson managed to scare it enough that Reuben was dropped, and he didn’t spare any time getting away! After that, he hid in the garage for a few days. This actually happened a few times: a fox would try to carry him off, and Carson would arrive just in time to save him. Once it even happened in broad daylight! He became quite the recluse after a particularly close call. Hanging out in the shop or right around it until the foxes were gone. He may have also been waiting for his feathers to grow back. He definitely looked like a survivor for a bit.

Hatching Chicks

This spring, we decided it was high time we got an incubator and started hatching and raising our own baby chicks. So we got an incubator with an automatic egg-turning function. A good neighbor gave us some fertilized eggs. Carson showed me how to add water to the incubator through the bottom front hole with a Turkey baster and to open the plug if the humidity got too high. I dutifully checked on it whenever I was in the laundry room, where we kept it, and made adjustments as needed.

Carson caught me trying to adjust the incubator for the chicks about the time they were supposed to hatch, and had to explain to me that the settings are different once they’re ready to hatch, the humidity goes up.

Raising Chicks

Timberlynn, our two-year-old, loved seeing the chicks. Carson sat on the kitchen floor with Timberlynn sitting in front of him, and he taught her how to gently hold the chick. She was so happy. Carson also supervised her several times while watching the chicks in their tote in the laundry room. Timberlynn would ask if she could watch the chicks by asking “baby cheeps,” and Carson and I started letting her, telling her not to pick them up without us, and we would frequently check on her from the next room. I can see the laundry room from the kitchen, so this was very handy for me to get dishes done while she chick watched. I noticed she didn’t pick them up, but she would pet them while they remained in the tote.

Chick Umbilical Cord Fix

One particular chick didn’t look right, though. It had its yolk sac still attached by its umbilical cord after it was done hatching. We waited several hours, maybe even a full day after hatching, hoping it would resolve itself. Instead, the poor chick ended up trying to pull it around, which was causing its insides to start to come out (at least that’s what it looked like). With his gut being pulled out by his umbilical cord in a bloody little mess, we were pretty sure it wouldn’t make it without intervention.

Carson had me hold the chick while he cut the sack from the umbilical cord; then we tied it off with some dental floss because he was still bleeding from it. We disinfected everything with iodine. Carson tucked as much of his insides back in as he could, then we put a small bandage over it, being careful not to use too much tape. Then we hoped and prayed for the best while keeping an eye on him. It ended up healing so well that we eventually lost track of which chick had had the belly button issues. (I made a separate post and printable, Chick Hatched with Yolk Sac Attached, Emergency DIY Fix Guide, outlining the steps we took and why.)

A Hard Lesson

Not all the chicks were as lucky as our belly button guy, though. One day, Timberlynn was chick watching, and our dog Mags was in the house. I didn’t think anything of it until there was a commotion. Timberlynn started yelling, “No, no, no!” At Maggie, and Maggie was quickly trotting away from her towards the door, with a chick in her mouth! I made her drop it and go outside, then turned my attention to Timberlynn and the traumatized chick. I wasn’t sure how injured it was, but I noticed it avoided moving in certain ways. Putting it back with the other chicks, I made it as comfortable as possible.

Timberlynn let me know that she had held the chick (I did not tell her she couldn’t this time) and wanted to show them to Mags. She had put it on the ground to show Mags, and she ran off with it. I called Carson and updated him on the incident.

I hand-fed and carefully watered the chick many times over the next 24 hours. It looked like it was going to make a recovery and even started getting up and eating on its own, but still avoided certain positions. After about 48 hours, though, it passed away in its sleep, probably from internal injuries. I felt horrible but had learned a valuable lesson: never trust a dog or toddler around chicks (in other words no multitasking while supervising).

Growing the Flock

Soon, the chicks were so big they were climbing their feeder and trying to jump out of the tote. Before they quite made it out of the tote, Carson made them a temporary enclosed home in his garage. It was a larger tub with hardware cloth over the top and something on top to weigh it down so our dog couldn’t just knock it off.

Later, we finally moved them into a little electric fence enclosure that they could get through, but other animals couldn’t, and there was a crate rigged up for them to roost in at night. Unfortunately, in the first couple of days of them being outside, we lost several of them; they just disappeared without a trace. (Maybe an owl? I don’t know.) Anyway, we ended up with six survivors, and we still have them.

Our neighbor gave us another six live chicks and their “Momma Hen,” as Timberlynn lovingly calls her. They are a lot more skittish than the ones we raised, especially “Momma Hen.” She doesn’t trust anyone.

DIY Roost

Carson built them all a nice roost using scraps and even a ladder from my childhood bunk bed. Then, he placed it by our other dog, Tecumseh’s zip line. Tecumseh is good with the chickens; they keep each other company, and he guards them from predators at night.

Carson spent several evenings at sunset teaching the chickens where to roost. At first, they still tried to roost in his garage, but he just relocated them to the roost he made for them, until they got the idea. The first night Carson put the chicks in with Reuben, he got big eyes and squawked a complaint. As if to say, “Carson, I don’t know about this.” Soon all the chicks treated him as their leader. Eventually, all the chicks and even Reuben started roosting in Carson’s DIY roost. Instead of the shelf in the garage, he had perched on it at night for the past few years. Momma Hen still doesn’t trust it, though, and roosts in the tree above it.

Then another neighbor of ours said they had a young chicken for us (older than our chicks but not full-grown). This chicken had been rejected by their flock and even picked on till it had several bare spots without feathers. The feathers it did have were scruffy from being on the bottom of the literal pecking order. Our chickens readily accepted it. Reuben only had one objection: he wouldn’t let it roost with him. So it ended up roosting in the tree with Momma Hen. At first, we thought it was a hen, but as its feathers grew, we began wondering if it might be a rooster.

Late Summer

Reuben was getting up there in years and started slowing down this summer. His crowing became almost non-existent, but picked back up a bit when Momma Hen moved in, though. It was sweet to watch them interact like a mature couple just enjoying each other’s company. Yes, he slowed down a lot this summer, and even battled an eye infection that claimed one of his eyes. He was our sweet old one-eyed rooster, but he passed away last month.

A few mornings after he passed away, Carson and I heard a rooster crow. We both looked to see which chicken it was, and it was the “reject” rooster.

“And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, ‘before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.’ And Peter went out, and wept bitterly.”

Luke 22:61-62