We don’t tend to get a lot of visitors out here on the farm, so I like to have a little fun with anyone willing to venture this far out by completely failing to describe the inside of our house to them. Ferret in the breakfast nook? Check, unless he’s sleeping in the guest bedroom. Chickens in the shower stall? Double check (there’s two). Ducks in the guest bathroom? Double check again (although that was only temporary — you can’t expect them to rehabilitate outside, that would be crazy).
Even though everything I’ve read says hens usually only go broody in the spring, I’ve got three of them actively sitting on clutches of eggs. Since Broody Mama is still raising her two chicks in the brooding box in the garage, and the weather is too wet and cold to put them outside yet, I found myself completely out of suitable residential space when two eggs hatched a week early in the incubator. Since chicken eggs aren’t really capable of hatching prematurely, apparently I brought the wrong set of eggs inside when the second broody mama’s clutch got too large. The sound of furious cheeping from the incubator was a complete surprise this morning. Not being known for my ability to plan ahead, I had to scramble to come up with some housing options. At first, I set up a brooding cubby inside the brooding box in the garage, but upon hearing the baby chicks, Broody Mama wigged out. With her feathers bristling, she went from zero to kill mode in like 15 seconds. Since the old shed is occupied by two other broodies sitting on eggs, I had to go with Plan C, which involves the master bathroom shower stall. At this point, I’m actually glad I had to retire from law enforcement, because keeping the house clean enough to avoid calls from the producers of Animal Hoarders is a full-time job in and of itself.