When Good Intentions Go Fowl

I started this spring with high hopes and an incubator full of eggs.
I imagined videos of fluffy hatchlings and triumphant motherhood moments in the chicken coop.

Reality, as it often does, had other plans full of lessons I didn’t know I needed, taught by creatures who weigh less than a gallon of milk.

Here's what happened when good intentions met the messy, hilarious, humbling world of chickens... and life.

I had every intention of getting a sweet video of the chicks hatching — but these two early birds showed up on day 18, ahead of schedule.
And it looks like they’ll be the only ones to make it.

We're now at day 22, and the rest of the eggs remain silent and still. No pipping, no peeping. I'm pretty sure their goose is cooked.

On day 17, I discovered the incubator had turned off. Further inspection of the crime scene revealed that the red switch on the power strip had been smashed down, leaving the meditation room eerily quiet and dark. The temperature had dropped to 66 degrees.

I can’t imagine that did any favors for developing embryos.

My top suspect? Anoah the inquisitive cat.
He has great hunting instincts and would sit and stare at the incubator like a cat outside a fish store: licking his lips, swishing his striped tail, purring with anticipation.
Honestly, he knew they were coming before I did.

So, I don’t know exactly why we ended up with a 20% hatch rate, but it was a learning experience.
It was amazing to hear them peeping from inside the shells — tiny life force working its way out.

Meanwhile, in the chicken coop...

I tried introducing the two awkward little babies to Domino — a white-and-black hen who’s spent the last month bouncing from one nest box to another, sitting for a week and then ditching the eggs for a new view a few boxes down.

I’ve tried marking the eggs and moving them with her.
Nope. She just relocates again. One time, she pecked the hell out of them in what can only be described as a poultry tantrum.

Still, I hoped that slipping the babies under her might finally satisfy her broody urge.
Give her a win. Let her feel like she accomplished something.

She did not see it that way.

She puffed up like a balloon animal and screamed like I had slipped a python under her.
She flapped furiously, trying to drive the tiny intruders from her space with her wings.
You’d think I was asking her to raise someone else’s velociraptors.

I’ve pulled this switcharoo on broody hens before, and it usually works. So I was more than surprised.

In the end, I tucked the chicks into the brooder box which is comically large for just two chicks but at least they’re warm and thriving.

The Domino Conspiracy

Domino, I think, likes the idea of being a mom, but doesn’t have the follow-through.

I envisioned her glowing with pride, finally having successfully hatched babies beneath her after all that nest-hopping.
But maybe she knew what she was doing all along. Maybe she just wanted us to think she was doing her part, while she was secretly sabotaging every clutch.

I can see the whole story now:

She’s tired of doing all the sitting while the other hens gallivant around with Rooney, our rooster Casanova — sipping fermented tomato wine on their garden picnics.
She’s over the pre-dawn cock-a-doodle-doos.
She’s over being chased by a horny teenager with a mohawk.

So she’s launched a quiet rebellion:
Sit on the eggs. Abandon the eggs. Ensure no new Roonies are born.

Eventually the flock will start to wonder.
Why no chicks? Is Rooney shooting blanks? A vote will be called.
It will be unanimous. Rooney has to go.

Or maybe… she’s just a human in a chicken’s body with a short attention span and zero tolerance for sitting in the same damn spot, staring into the same damn void, for 21 days.

I can’t help but wonder how many times I’ve tried to help someone, convinced I was doing the right thing — only to realize I was lucky not to get pecked to death. I guess sometimes the best intentions still land you in the middle of a mess. Feathers, feelings, and all.

What about you?

Have you ever tried to help and ended up causing a bigger disaster?
I’d love to hear about it — it’ll make me feel better about my own clumsy attempts at "helping."