Single Hatchling

Remember the broody hens who were collectively sitting on a clutch of 30+ eggs? I spent way too much time fretting about what would happen if even half of them hatched. The thought of potentially adding that many more chicks to our already large flock had me spiraling. I imagined becoming Tractor Supply’s #1 Customer, my face immortalized in the store next to the feed bins—Chicken Feed Customer of the Month. And also, I dreaded the sheer amount of poop.

Anyhoo… I needn’t have worried.

Out of the 30+ eggs, guess how many hatched?

Two.

And one of them didn’t make it.

So now we have… drumroll please… one baby chicklet.

One.

His name is Noodle. Chicken Noodle. Obviously.

Baby Noodle

I feel kind of bad for the little guy. He’s an only child, which is sad enough, but he’s got two overbearing mamas co-parenting him like a pair of helicopter hens who read too many chicken parenting blogs.

“Noodle, sweetie, over here!”

“Noodle, eat your grain.”

“Noodle, don’t go near the duck pen!”

“Noodle! Not the goats!”

“Noodle, Noodle, NOODLE!”

He’s loved. Deeply. Intensely. Maybe… too much.

So, feeling sorry for our smothered singleton, my husband ran out and picked up a couple of day-old chicks to sneak under the broody moms. We had high hopes.

Plan A: They’d be fooled into thinking, “Oh wow! Surprise! Our eggs hatched a little late, but look at these bonus babies!”

Plan B: They’d be so thrilled to have more chicks to dote on, they’d welcome them with open wings and joyful clucks.

Reality: They freaked out. Chased the new chicks around like angry bouncers at a henhouse nightclub. Feathers flew. Pecks were pecked. Love was not in the air.

So now I have two tiny, rejected fluff nuggets in their very own brooder because the other brooders are full of older, bossier chicks who would no doubt shove them into a corner and steal their lunch money.

Noodle shall remain friend-less. For now.