Brooder house yards on early Indiana ranch 



one of our new home-made machines. Each morning and evening we 

 would draw off a bucket of water and fill in one of hot water, which 

 would bring the temperature up to the desired point of 103 degrees. 

 Mother heated the water on the back of the stove in a large kettle. 

 We only turned the eggs once per day and knew nothing about cooling 

 the eggs. Our new work was absorbing and interesting and we had 

 great times planning and discussing. We placed the incubator in the 

 thick-walled cellar house just back of our old farm home and each 

 evening we would turn the eggs and talk chicken, and I reckon this 

 period among the happiest days of my life. With what a thrill we 

 heard the first peep in those eggs, and how we rushed into the house 

 to tell the balance of the family, who gathered around to make sure 

 we knew what we were talking about. They were alive, all right, for 

 we heard a peep. This being our very first experience, we were not 

 sure that they would come out. Next morning there were several eggs 

 pipped and some little, wet, wobbly chicks rolling out of the eggs. 



While we had been incubating we were building a brooder house 

 for these chicks, which was the usual type of hot water system with 

 hovers and small pens. This was heated with coal in a hot-water 

 boiler. Into these nice new warm pens we put our first hatch. There 

 was some hustling on the old farm the next morning when we carried 

 the chicks from the incubator to the brooder house. My brother-in- 

 law came over to see how the hatch came off. He met me coming out 

 of the brooder house all red in the face, with a basket on my arm. 

 "How many chicks did you get?" was the first question. Now this 

 was the "unkindest" question that could possibly be asked an amateur 

 potiltryman. Reluctantly, I told him that I only had 197 chicks from 

 my 240 eggs placed in the incubator and that I was at a loss to know 



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