"Non-Intrusive Aviculture Birdkeeping Naturally"

It has been 31 days now that my favorite breeder hen has been setting on her second clutch of eggs. Her first clutch last year proved to be infertile, and was cracked by hen and cock activity in and out of the nestbox during incubation. I had high hopes for this season, because he is one year older (hence hornier and more protective!) while she has set ever so tightly. I've barely seen her in weeks and she discourages the cock from spending much time in the clutch cavity.

She was due about day 28 and I have to admit that squatting beneath the box and speculating while listening for the slightest of peeps is beginning to try my avicultural patience. Still, if she continues to set so tightly, she must be enjoying it -- you know, breakfast in bed every day& and all that...

So, I am in no hurry to try to look in the box and disturb her clutch merely to satisfy my own intense curiosity. If the eggs are again infertile, as I suspect, the male being an early-pulled hand-fed bird and therefore slightly dysfunctional in family matters, then there is no real reason for me to open the nestbox and shut down the current clutch. And there just might be the slight possibility that something successful is going on in there. This is no time to freak her out with bright light and the shocking knowledge that her safe, secure, cozy nest is, in fact, not really safe at all from humans!

One of my cardinal rules in aviculture is to never startle a young hen on her eggs or, what's worse, force her off her clutch to do some trivial touching and checking. I tend to giggle at bird breeders who complain that they have "bad" pairs who never raise chicks, while the keepers continually open, monitor, and candle inside the box. Do you really think that one can remove an egg from a clutch grouping, fiddle with it, then replace it without the hen realizing it has been touched, turned, cooled, or such?

Moluccan Cockatoos, certain Amazons and Macaws are notorious for getting upset and nervous, then puncturing, or breaking eggs when they return to the clutch. Heaven help the aviculturist if he disturbs a nervous pair when new hatchlings are in the box. This is the time of near maximum pent-up aggression in our breeder birds. If they note a small disturbance, they may want to maim and kill, or more likely, not tune back into their trance state which has been broken and adequately feed and support the tiny chicks.

If you are dealing with an inexperienced domestic-raised hen and cock, the chances of something going wrong when you inject yourself into the nestbox security equalization is greatly heightened.

I only begin gentle monitoring of breeder pairs once these birds are stable and proven and they have begun to trust enough in their old reliable nestbox to venture outside briefly every so often. Then a lockout panel or a hand towel stuffed into the box opening will allow me to take a peek. Still, I do not touch. This is the most intimate of private spots for a broody hen and I believe she knows every detail of it. I will begin making my chick contact calls to give the babies early notice of what I sound like so that the same calling will be recognized on nursery pulling day. I keep the box check opening shaded against frightening blaze of bright light, and perhaps caress a beak and neck very lightly with my fingernails to get chicks used to a hand. I do not move anything around. (If you want an added incentive to keep hands off and away from their nestbox, try breeding captive-raised pairs of some of the larger and more fearsome psittacine species in a large walk-in aviary sometime!!!)

The greatest key to knowing that your hen is doing a wonderful job on her eggs is the fact that you never even see her. She is being fed conscientiously by the cock and food consumption is heavy, but nothing, not even screaming loud parrots nearby or a small earth tremor, prompts her to come off her clutch. This is precisely the kind of hens I want in my aviaries. Of course, it can be kind of nerve-wracking the first time your hen goes to nest, and you have not seen her in three weeks, and your human paranoid mind is telling you "Heavens, what if she has died?"

Relax. He is still eating for two or three, and going up to the box and all is well. So if it is not broken, don't fix it.

Breeders who screw up and continually lose babies often try to tell me the hen and cock killed them. Normally, the pair is blamed and this becomes a persistent rationalization for buying an incubator and stealing eggs or pulling chicks very, very early to "save them." Frankly I do not believe in blaming the birds. Killing your own babies is not a natural behavior. In stable, bonded pairs being housed with security, fed proper breeding and nestling foods, and left alone, chick killing is unlikely. What is more probable, especially when keepers begin fooling around with the nestbox, is that the hen or pair became nervous when something in the hatch and care environment breached security, and the chick was lost, trampled, not properly fed in the most fragile of day one and day two states, so it died. Then maybe they even chewed it.

Immediate reaction should be for the aviculturist to go back to the drawing board and evaluate the total situation. Some pairs simply will not feel safe enough to raise a clutch if the nestbox opening is not concealed behind pine boughs or leafy branches. Some breeders only feel safe when raised up to nestbox heights of 101 or so. Many boxes are basically loud echo chambers with too much room inside and no way for hens to protect eggs from being jostled. The point is, for the expert aviculturist, it is not the birds' fault.

Anyway, back to my dilemma with this cherished hen who has been stuck tight for 31 days. Tis not unusual for a keeper to miscount the full incubation period from the time when a broody hen begins to set. Eggs have been known to hatch a full seven to ten days after they were expected, certainly in cooler, wetter weather. I once had a Yellow Crown Amazon hen who was so attentive and devoted to her chicks, who kept them so packed full with nutritious fare brought by her mate, that nine days went by before I heard any neonate peeps from the box. I finally caught her out and ran to check. Wow! Three healthy Amazons, the oldest larger than a tennis ball.

So, it's hands off and keep my distance from this new clutch. But, I am crossing my fingers& Non-invasive aviculture. It works.