Don't count on chickens until they actually hatch

I went to bed last night with the idea that I'd be waking up to a new, fluffy face and more pipping eggs. So far I have been immune to any major problems or pitfalls with chickens.  I lost my favorite hen last year and I struggled to keep her alive through illness when she was a chick but I don't consider this major.  However, I seem to expect major heartbreak all the time and though anxious about this latest batch I had no clue what I'd be waking up to.

This morning I approached the coop feeling spooked. I opened the egg door to find Fuzztop anxious and skittish. There was an odor, another egg had exploded or she had broken it. It appeared to be another dud. But the yolk from this egg had coated everything including the egg that was pipping last night. The baby inside sounded distressed but since it takes several hours  to hatch there was no telling what was really going on.

 Fuzztop was pecking angrily at it and I didn't know if she was trying to help the chick out or kill it. I still didn't know if eggs had exploded or if she had broken them, I didn't know what to think. She was going to kill it pecking at it this way. Her expression was not good. I panicked and brought the egg indoors and turned on the stove for warmth and began to gently and carefully peel back the egg. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I didn't know what I was doing. I could be killing this poor thing, ugh! I had read that blood would be normal but cutting off their supply too fast could result in them bleeding to death.

Not knowing what was exactly what I set the chick free of everything as gently as possible.

 As soon as I got it out and wrapped in a napkin I ran outside for the brooder lamp and clamped it  to the bathroom sink and placed the blood coated, scared, wet little bird there until I could find a box. I had no box! It was on my list of things to do this morning. The metal brooder cage seemed too cold and I had not  bleached it down yet.  I got a paper bag and folded it down, placed it in a laundry basket and clamped the brooder lamp in.

I have been waiting an  our now and the feathers are drying out. Let's say it's a female. Her breathing is strong and she moves around and peeps but has yet to open her eyes. I hope she does soon.  This whole ordeal is really entirely too earthy for me. My hands were covered with blood and this slimy little thing I would freak out my husband, who was still asleep, but I needed his help so I called out. My grandparents suggested I gather the remaining eggs and set them under the brooder lamp. When I looked outside both girls were on the nest.

I sat with this chick from 8am until 1pm. Trying to get chores and errands done in between. I brought in the remaining eggs and placed them under the lamp. One began to hatch then suddenly stopped and died. I took the other three outside where one exploded. Purple, grayish fluid came out and then a strong odor of spoiled egg permeated the air. The other egg was filled with a thick yellow fluid and the other with a thin grey fluid. These eggs never took. This was the  weirdest and most disturbing clutch I have ever had.

The one chick that is still living has been named Elvis. William was playing Elvis all afternoon and this chick was The One and Only. Like Elvis, her sib died at birth. Elvis went through dramatic changes throughout the day. I am still disturbed and heartbroken over the losses but all my love has gone into Elvis who really rocks for cooperating with my efforts this morning.  She still has a long way to go though.