True Confessions of a Novice Chicken Keeper

So we did get more chickens.  It did not go well. 

We already had plenty of chickens.  We were busy changing feeders, cleaning brooders, building a chicken coop and run.  But a local breeder had rare Chantecler chicks available in June.  Chanteclers are one of the rarest poultry breeds, and Canadian to boot.  I thought, “I can do the poultry world a favor.  I will raise Chantecler chickens and keep the breeding line alive.  Maybe I will even breed some of my own.  I’ll be a hero!” 

Our chicks were getting along pretty well.  We had slowly introduced the two groups to each other.  We had no problems with disease, and the pecking order seemed to be established.  So of course, why not throw in four more?  Chicks that were half the size of the others.  Chicks that had not spent the past month getting to know the other chicks.  There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with that.

So that was Mistake #1.  Mistake #2 was putting them in a pre-used brooder.  We cleaned out the brooder (as best we could clean a brooder with cardboard walls and a tarp floor), cleaned the feeders and waterers, and put in fresh bedding.  We brought the tiny, precious fluffballs home.

To make a long and painful story short, even though I cleaned the brooder, feeder, and waterer regularly, the Chanties fell victim to ammonia poisoning, an overexposure to ammonia, present in their waste.  By the time we started exposing them to the bigger, tougher chicks they were partially blind.  We only discovered this after several times reaching in to pick up a chick, only to have it flinch when we touched it.  When the bigger chicks pecked a Chantie on the head to let it know who was boss it would flinch, squawk, and run directly away, usually right into a fence or a feeder.  

The big bullies

Those poor little things didn’t have a chance. 

I was heartbroken.  These beautiful little birds I’d dreamed about raising and breeding were blind, bullied, and terrified.  They were not the thriving show-chickens I had dreamed of.  They shamed me with their clouded eyes.  Although I tried to make it work the Chanties did not thrive and eventually we had to make the difficult decision to end their suffering.  It was not a happy day at Clay Swamp Acres. 

What it was was a valuable lesson in taking the adventure slowly, in learning from mistakes.  It was a reminder that no matter how careful and clean and invested we were, something could go wrong.  And it might be our fault. 

But it wasn’t the end.  

We still had all these wonderful healthy chickens who were growing and thriving, scratching and pecking, and turning into teenagers in front of our eyes.  There was still some tough Chicken Math to be done, but soon it would all add up.