Another Birth Story

As Day 23 slipped in to Day 24 I began to worry. The egg was still cheeping but Vera now had a lively, demanding chick (named temporarily as Hoppy) that needed to eat and drink. So she had to leave the eggs to lead the bouncy (and quite frankly, mental) Hoppy to the food and water. All the time she was away, the eggs were cooling.

I watched proceedings nervously. Twice I found Vera settled down near the feeder keeping Hoppy warm, and ignoring the cheeping egg. I put her back in the nest each time, and kept my fingers crossed. She was definitely losing the will to sit, and I couldn't blame her. Hoppy was now ranging out from under Vera's protective wing, and causing mischief. Now that Vera had shown him how to eat, he decided to practice pecking at everything. His initial target was his mother's feet. Vera would squeal as each peck landed, and shuffle backwards. This became great fun for the little chick, and eventually Vera's patience ran out. She scooped him under her wing with her beak, and muttered grumpily. However, Hoppy was not sleepy. He wriggled back around to Vera's front, bashing the other eggs about as he did so, and arrived in front of her triumphant. He then tried to peck her in the eye. Vera was too quick for him and got her eye closed before he could make contact. So he weaved his head around to the other side and had a go at her other eye. This continued for a while, with the chick pestering her eyes alternately, and Vera doing semaphore with her eyelids. I admired her patience and restraint. Eventually, the little hooligan got sleepy and flopped forward on to the bedding, cheeping exhaustedly. Vera shuffled forwards and covered him with her ample bosom. She probably got a whole five minutes of peace.

Every so often the cheeping egg would really go for it, and Hoppy would cheep back. They were soon dueting an almighty racket, and Vera's soothing crooning did little to quieten them. I kept watching for signs of pipping, but as the afternoon wore on I began to lose heart. As Vera took Hoppy for his dinner, I picked the egg up and listened. The chick inside was scratching and tapping but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The temptation to help it was enormous, but I know that if a chick isn't strong enough to pip, it isn't strong enough to live. So I put the egg back, and resumed my anxious vigil.

Once night fell, Vera was firmly ensconced on the eggs. Even Hoppy fell silent for a bit. Deciding what would be would be, I distracted myself for a couple of hours. When I couldn't keep away any more, I went out with my torch for a peep. I found Vera undulating. There was obviously great activity going on beneath her wings. Spotting the end of an egg peeking out from under her, I lifted her wing to get a closer look. And that's when I realised that the visible egg was just shell. Investigating a little further, I discovered a newly hatched, panting serama chick. Well, it's bum anyway. Hoppy was sat on it's head.

This morning, I went out to check on my little serama family. The new chick was mostly dry but noticably weaker than Hoppy. This might just be because it's two days behind it's nest mate, so hopefully it will catch up. However, Vera is no longer sitting in the nest. She has decamped to the food area, and this worries me a little. The new chick really needs her to stay sat so it can keep warm, but she's running about after it's bigger, louder nest mate. I found the new chick on it's back earlier in the chick crumb, cheeping pitifully. I rescued it and Vera watched me carefully while stuffing her face. I can't blame her, she has been sat for nearly four weeks and has lost weight. She needs to feed herself up. Hoppy is now old enough to follow her around also scoffing, but the new chick was getting left behind. Worried it would get cold, I did the only thing I could think of. Please don't judge me, reader. I stuck the chick down my top. Vera finished her meal keeping her beady eye on my cheeping cleavage, and then after a minute or two loudly demanded her baby back. I returned it to her, and she sat tucking one chick under each wing. I will keep a close eye on her.

Sadly, I do think that one of the other eggs had signs of life first thing this morning. I think I heard some tapping. But Vera has decided enough is enough, and she now has her wings quite literally full. When I last went out, the eggs in the nest were cold and there was no sign of life. I suspect that the three eggs contain dead chicks, as serama are known for dying in the shell. I can't bring myself to open them, but nor can I throw them away. Soft hearted as I am, I think I will bury them. I started this experiment with twelve eggs, and it has ended with two live hatches. Considering everything that was against me, I am quite pleased with that.

I removed Hoppy's shoe this morning. His two outer toes are now in the correct position, but his middle toe is bent to the left like a banana. It doesn't seem to be troubling him judging by how fast he can scuttle, so I'm not overly worried at this stage. The other chick's feet look normal.

Now I just have to wait and see what flavour they are.

Day 23 - Another Egg Is Cheeping

A quick update. As expected, the little chick threw it's shoe again within hours. So I brought out the big guns. He is now sporting a fabric sticking plaster flip flop. See if you can wriggle out of that piece of evil stickiness, mate.

While I was fitting our little pal for his footwear, Vera used the opportunity to grab a bite to eat. She was busily gulping down corn and water when I put the little guy back, and he ran/fell across to his mum cheeping his bonce off. She ignored him for a bit, and i began to worry that he'd get cold. But then, with an air of resignation known to mothers everywhere, she squatted down and covered him with her wing. And that's when it dawned on me that she was going to set up home right there, near the food. Sensible enough, really. Except as I peeked in at the remaining eggs, I thought I heard a tiny, muffled cheep. Carefully picking it up, I placed my ear to the shell. The egg cheeped again. I hurriedly set it back down, and much to Vera and her offspring's annoyance, moved them both back to the nest.

Vera rearranged her eggs again, and sat down. The chick ran/fell about all over the place before attempting to shove itself up her bum. Everyone has their limit, and Vera crossly butted it under herself with her head, muttering no doubt about naughty steps and being grounded. After a few more shouty cheeps, it fell silent.

Let's hope it'll have a pal to snuggle up to soon.

Day 23

This morning I got up hoping that at least one of the other eggs would have pipped. As far as I can tell, that hasn't happened. We still have just the one noisy serama baby. It had managed to shed it's shoe during the night, so with difficulty the ever tolerant husband and I replaced it's sticking plaster footwear. It shrieked it's tiny head off the entire time, and the worried mother waddled around the nest in cricles looking for it. When I popped it back next to her, it basically threw a  tantrum complaining about this horrific treatment before diving back under her wing. Vera chattered soothingly to it the entire time. Just for the 'awwwww' factor, here's a family portrait:

Vera listens to her youngster's complaints.

So, now I'm wondering if I'll be left with a lone chick. I know that a lone chick in a brooder is not a good thing, but can't find much information about lone chicks with broodies. If I could get my hands on a serama baby or two, I would gladly pop them under her. That is unlikely to happen, though. So this little fuzzy might be it.

If anyone has any suggestions for a unisex name for 'It', feel free to comment.

First Chick - First Pics

While obsessively watching Vera and her new chick, I noticed that the little micro chook had mixed up toes. It's outer toe crossed under the foot, so it couldn't walk properly. In fact, it was walking on the side of it's foot. So I googled, consulted some poultry peep friends of mine, and fitted it with a tiny shoe. Well, when I say shoe, I mean a plaster. The ever tolerant husband assisted by holding the plaster still, while I placed the chick's toes straight on it. Then we simply folded the plaster over the top, holding the toes in the correct position. The chick was unimpressed with this whole treatment, and cheeped it's tiny head off the whole time. Vera watched us carefully, but remained calm and once her little charge was returned to her, happily stashed it back under her wing. It seems that Vera has lost her appetite for small fuzzies.

Chick 1, sporting this seasons must have eyeliner.

If you look carefully, you can see that it's right foot is curled. The outer toe is not visible, but was curled under the foot and resting near the inner toe. By the time the shoe was fitted, the poor thing was desperate to get back to Vera so there is no comedy 'giant plaster shoe' pic.

Notice how I am saying 'it' in a feeble attempt not to get attached.

Who am I kidding.