CAYUGA DUCKS.
We conceived the plan of crossing this bird with the Cayuga, with a view of increasing the size, not knowing whether the good or the negative qualities of the two birds would prevail. We were very much pleased with the results of this cross, as it gave us all the good qualities of the Cayuga with the largely increased size of theRouen. It gave us also a good table bird, the flesh of which was far better flavored than that of the puddle duck. We made the duck business then supplementary to that of growing chickens. Our chicks were hatched out early in the winter in order to secure the high prices. Our ducks during the spring and summer were not marketed until fall. We did not expect those ducks to lay till the first of April, and they did not disappoint us. If anyone had told us that young ducks could be made to lay at four or five months old, and that we could have our young broods out by the thousands at that time, we should have called him insane. We then gave our ducklings free range, and, as a consequence, lost large numbers of them from eating injurious insects, which, in their haste, they did not stop to kill, and paid the penalty with their lives.
ROUEN DUCKS.
Now, the genuine duckling is proverbially stupid. He has an immense faculty for getting himself into trouble, without the first idea as to how he shall get out. As, forinstance, we had taken up some old fence-posts one day, and carelessly left the holes (some two feet deep) unfilled. When feeding time came at night we missed many of our little ducklings, and, at the same time, heard a great squeaking, which we could not locate. We finally traced it to the post-holes, which we found nearly full of young ducklings, not much the worse for the adventure. When we look back at the difficulties with which we had to contend, and the losses we sustained in consequence, I often wonder that we were not discouraged. It was blunder after blunder, repeated always with the same results. We had very little idea of the systematic care and regular food required to ensure against loss and enable the young birds to attain a weight in a few weeks which we supposed required almost as many months. We still had the impression that water was essential to the welfare of the birds, both old and young, and that eggs would not be fertile unless copulation took place in the water. So we built a tank for use during the dry season of the year (which held about a hogshead), and cemented it thoroughly.
This tank we laboriously filled with water for the birds to sport in, but it did not work, as it soon became so offensive that we were obliged to renew it at least every three days, so that we soon became tired of it, and once more allowed the ducks the liberty of the swamp. We never obtained more than half of the number of eggs that we now get from our Pekins. About this time the Aylesbury duck came under our notice, and we procured a number of them at once, as they came highly recommended, but they did not meet our expectations. They were a very pretty bird to look at, and their feathers were more valuable, but there the advantage ended, for the strain we obtained was a trifle smaller than the mongrels we had been breeding,—rather more delicate torear, and, worse than all, we found it almost impossible to pick them. In all our experience before or since we have never seen anything to equal those birds. The tenacity of those feathers was exasperating. Every one was bound to retain its complement of flesh. Of course the birds were so disfigured that the most of them were retained for family use. It was no use to think of scalding them,—that would not only seriously injure the feathers, but would completely spoil the birds for Boston market, as scalded birds are rejected at once and classed with cheap Western fowls.
While going the rounds of Boston market one pleasant June day, shortly after our experience with the Aylesburys, we noticed some fine young birds nicely dressed, that had evidently snow-white plumage. As this was before the advent of iced poultry, we supposed the birds had come from the regions of the far South, and our curiosity was excited. We interviewed the dealer and was surprised to learn that the birds were grown to the north of us, and that they were the Pekin ducks we had heard of for a year or two, but had taken no stock in. Yet here they were in the market, while ours were toddling about at home less than half grown. Here was a revelation. We procured some eggs of this party, at once, and in due time hatched out sixty lively young ducklings. They were tended with the utmost care and not one was lost. We were very much interested in these little fellows, they were so hardy, and you could fairly see them grow. It occurred to me at this time to try and experiment with these ducklings, keep a correct account of all food consumed by them, and ascertain what they cost per pound when ready for market. The average weight was taken from the rejected drakes which we did not need for breeding purposes, and which were culled out and sent to market at ten weeks old.We were very much surprised to find the cost to us (exclusive of the cost of eggs) was about 4-3/4 cents per pound. We could hardly credit our own eyes. The calculation was made again and again with the same result. The same calculation was made a year later on two yards of some three hundred ducklings with a result obtained, when ready for market, of 5-1/4 cents per pound, including cost of eggs.
AYLESBURY DUCKS.
As I had long since left the paternal abode, and for years had ceased to superintend the establishments of others, and as the following experience will be entirely my own, I shall hereafter use the personal "I". It is needless to say that the figures arrived at from the calculations made of those ducks were startling. What! can I grow ducks in three months as cheaply as I can grow pork in a year, or beef in two years, and then get six times as much per pound for it after it is grown? Yes, if figures tell the truth. Can I afford longer to grow large crops of fruit and vegetables, working early and late, risking frosts and drouths, making a barelivelihood, when with one-tenth part of the labor and capital involved I can grow a crop which drouths and frosts do not injure, and make five times as much? No! I have not had a hog on my farm since I kept a Kemp's spreader to work over the manure, and simply grow fruit and vegetables enough for feathered thieves and home consumption. Another question arose: "What shall I do with my cows?" some sixteen or eighteen in number, bull, young stock, etc.
Now, I had become somewhat proud of my farm, as what man does not who had quadrupled its increase within ten years? I was cutting yearly some two hundred tons of hay on less than half that number of acres, and I knew that if I sold my cows I should, in some way, be obliged to get rid of my hay and that would mean disaster to the farm. There might be no decrease in acres, but there would be a sad diminution in the tons of hay. The result is, I keep cows for my own use. Have built two new barns, each one hundred feet long, the basements of which are utilized for box stalls, accommodating sixty boarding horses. These convert my hay and grain (for which I receive the market price) into manure. This is all I expect and all I get.
A while ago a gentleman from New York caught me hoeing in my onion patch. He expressed his astonishment at the size of the onions. (I now grow two or three hundred bushels yearly to supply my own and neighbors' wants, and just to keep my hand in.) Said he: "Your land seems well adapted to this crop." "Yes, I have some twenty or thirty acres that are level, the soil is easily worked and friable, not troubled much with maggot, and, if properly handled, is about sure of a crop." "Why don't you put it all into onions?" "I cannotafford to." "Why," said he, "if our New York farmers had that land within twenty or thirty miles of New York city it would be worth $1,000 an acre, and they would make it pay twenty-five per cent. of that, too, every year." "Possibly they could, but with one-tenth of the labor and capital employed I can raise ducks enough on one acre to buy all the onions I can raise on ten. If I am going to increase my capital and labor in any direction I should put it into ducks, not onions." He acknowledged that perhaps I was right, but at the same time thought it was poor economy to grow nothing but hay on such land as that.
The Muscovy duck as its name implies is a denizen of the Mediterranean and is a beautiful bird, quiet and inoffensive in its habits, but cannot compare with the Pekin either in fecundity or in market value. It cannot be induced to lay so early in the season as the Pekin, thus forfeiting the high Spring prices. The eggs require about the same time to incubate as the goose egg (five weeks) and they do not hatch well in an incubator. It is some three weeks longer in maturing than the Pekin and does not command as high a price in the market by two cents per pound. I asked a prominent Boston market man yesterday the reason for it. He said that the flesh was coarser than that of the Pekin while the disparity in the size of the sexes made them very unpopular, for instance, while the drake will dress from eight to ten pounds the duck will rate but four or five pounds. Said he, "I want none of them." There are two varieties of this bird, white and colored.
This bird is of recent introduction, and while it can never be a first-class market bird on account of itssmall size and dark pins, it has many good points. Its fecundity is wonderful. There is, perhaps, no bird that will excel it as an egg producer for market. Its patrons are enthusiastic in its praise and claim an average yield of one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred eggs per year from each of their birds, but their small size, four to four and a half pounds, together with their dark pins, militates against their value as a market bird. I have always emphasized the point that size as well as fecundity is a necessary adjunct to a profitable market bird. It is no more trouble or risk to grow a large bird than a small one, while the market returns are often double. The large bird will always command at least two or three cents per pound more than a small one, as well as a more ready sale. The Runner is a parti-colored bird.
I was very much pleased with the Pekin ducks. They not only layed some weeks earlier than any other breed I had ever kept, but were precocious, maturing earlier than either of the other breeds, excepting the Cayugas, there being but little difference between the latter and the Pekins, but the Pekins laying some weeks sooner, it gave us control of the early spring markets, which are by far the most profitable of the year.
My neighbors had become much interested in the business and often visited me, and were not backward in giving their opinions. They predicted failure for me, giving as reasons that the market would soon be glutted with so much of that kind of stuff, for poultry never could be as good grown in that unnatural way, and that if I kept on growing those ducks in the same yard, year after year, the land would eventually get poisoned, and then disease would clean me out.
But I had thought this thing all over before laying out my yards. I knew that reversing land and cropping it would disinfect it, so a crop of ducks is always followed by a crop of something else; and thus I succeed each season in getting two crops of ducks and two crops of either rye, barley, or oats, so that the land has not been poisoned, and is still growing its complement of large, fat ducks every year, and as I have set it to plum trees, it is beginning to yield fine, luscious plums. Neither is the market glutted, as the demand is far in excess of the supply. The way of growing does not seem to be any objection, as the marketmen are willing to pay me, at least, two to four cents per pound more than they can possibly get for those grown in the natural way.
Perhaps a word here would not be amiss regarding the merits of artificially and naturally-grown poultry for fancy and market purposes. This is a vital question, and it is as well for the public to fully understand this thing now, as well as its origin. There is many a person who has been thoroughly convinced of the great advantages and the economy of the artificial over the natural way of doing it, and who would gladly have started in the business, but was deterred by the prevailing opinion that artificially-grown birds were always deficient in plumage, and could never win at a show, and that the flesh was inferior for table use and could not find a ready sale. It is as well to explode this thing now, and expose its utter fallacy. There is not a shadow of doubt but that much poor poultry has been put upon the market by people who have attempted its culture in the artificial way by growing hundreds of ducks and chicks in the same limited space that they formerly used for a dozen with an old hen.
These, of course, could not be otherwise than poorand the mortality great. Another reason: the fancy business in poultry is fast being overdone. The best breeds are now scattered far and wide over the entire country. There is not the demand for them that there has been, because good birds can be obtained nearer home. Many of our old and well-known fanciers are making frantic but vain efforts to keep their business up to its former standard. They have suffered considerably from competition with artificially-grown birds, and they roundly assert that it is an unnatural method, that the conditions are not right, that it affects the growth and plumage of the bird in such a manner as to preclude its ever taking a first-class premium at our shows.
Now if they can convince the public that naturally grown birds can capture premiums, and they grow all their birds in the natural way, it is easy to see how their trade would be increased.
Now, I never could see how the old hen could impart vigor to her chicks by imparting lice, or how the increased contributions of filth from the old hen, united to that from the chicks, could ever make the conditions more favorable than that from the chicks alone. It can no longer be denied that the artificially-grown fowls are fast coming to the front,—a place which they already occupy in the market. Knapp Bros., Fabius, N. Y., the greatest prize winners on White Leghorns in the country, grow their birds artificially. We could mention many others who are doing equally well. Our own Pekin ducks have, for many generations, been hatched and grown artificially, and today, for size, symmetry, and beauty of plumage they stand unrivaled in North America. They have won first from Canada to the Gulf, and have never been defeated. Three times during the past ten years we have been obliged to enlarge market boxes to accommodate the increased size of our birds;and yet we have bred only from our own stock. A number of times I have procured winning birds at the Pennsylvania and Western State Fairs, with a view to a change of blood, only to cast the birds aside on their arrival here, as I could not breed from them without deteriorating my flock in size. If this is the result of artificial growing and of in-breeding, I shall keep right on.
I have always selected the very choicest and best from the many I raised for breeding stock, and the result has been a gradual increase of size. I have seen many persons who, from a mistaken idea of introducing new blood, have reduced both the size and quality of their stock. Let it be here understood that a man who keeps but one drake and a few ducks is breeding-in fast. But the one who keeps a thousand in different yards can breed many years with impunity, because the intermingling of blood is exactly in inverse ratio to the numbers kept. I have repeatedly heard prominent marketmen in New York and Boston say that my artificially-grown poultry, both in chicks and ducks, were the best that they ever handled.... I will endeavor to secure their signatures to that effect, as convincing proof of this, as I wish the public to know the truth as it is.
I was then breeding Pekins exclusively, and found the business while growing them was far more profitable than ever before, and accordingly increased my incubating and brooding capacity, and instead of growing 1,500 to 2,000 ducklings, grew from 10,000 to 20,000. This was done during the early spring and summer, the machines and brooders being used for early chicks during the winter. I had observed that, during my experience with chicks, that crossing with the best breeds always made better layers and better market birds than either ofthe breeds from which they originated; also, that the first cross was always the best, and that continued breeding from crosses is sure to deteriorate both in size and quality.
I conceived the idea of procuring some of the best stock possible of Rouens, Aylesburys, Cayugas, and crossing them on the Pekins, with the object of increasing the size and precocity. I experimented first with Cayugas, and crossed both ways, using both Pekin and Cayuga drakes, and, in order to test the experiment fairly, the mongrel eggs were hatched in the same machine, the young birds grown in the same yards, subjected to the same care and feed, with the Pekins. The Cayuga cross was very satisfactory, with two exceptions. They were fine, plump birds, took on fat readily, and matured as early as the Pekins, while the mortality was not more than one per cent. on either, but we found that the skin was dark, the dark pins, when there were any, showing very plainly beneath.
These birds were sent to market in the same boxes with the Pekins. Our dealers to whom we shipped allowed us the same price for them as for the Pekins, as there were but few of them, but had they all been of that color would have been obliged to cut them two cents per pound on the price. This was enough for me, especially as I found that the feathers commanded but little more than half the price of the pure white feathers of the Pekins.
The experiment, though conducted in the same manner, with the Rouens, was somewhat different in result. There was a great loss from those mongrels. They evidently inherited the same weak constitutions of the Rouens. They had not the vitality of the Pekins, whilethey required at least three weeks longer to mature. This latter alone was sufficient to condemn them for all market purposes, especially when subjected to the same discount on dark pins and feathers as the Cayugas. This was sufficient to discard both breeds for my use as market birds.
But I expected great things from the Aylesburys. I procured the best ducks to be had in the country, while I used imported drakes from the best prize-winners in England, and I have never yet seen those drakes equaled in size; and I was unusually careful in this experiment, because I knew that the English breeders claimed for their birds a superiority in all the points essential for a good market bird, namely, delicacy and flavor of flesh, size, precocity, and greater egg production,—laying special stress on their hardiness and vitality. I bred those birds clear and crossed them, carefully noting the result. Our first batch of Pekins and those crosses numbered about 300, nearly equally divided. These were mixed and confined in two yards. For the first two weeks there was no perceptible difference, when gradually the young Pekins began to outgrow the crosses, the difference increasing with age. The former were very even in size, the latter irregular, while the mortality was as six to one in favor of the Pekins. When we began to kill those birds the Pekins were all in the market at the end of eleven weeks, while the crosses remained in the yards fully one week behind. The weight was in favor of the Pekins about one pound per pair.
The same difficulty existed as in former years—the tenacity of the feathers. The pickers grumbled, while the birds were more or less disfigured. I notified thedealers of the breeds of those ducks, and of the claim made by the English breeders, and wished them to ascertain if possible if there was any difference in favor of the Aylesburys. They said their customers found no preference, for themselves they preferred the Pekins on account of the larger size and finer appearance of the dressed birds. But I found it made a vast deal more difference than that to me. One pound per pair on 2,000 pairs of ducklings, at an average price of twenty-five cents per pound, made a difference of more than $500 to me; especially the extra ten days required to mature the Aylesburys cost more than the feed for extra pound of flesh grown upon the Pekins. I do not keep Aylesburys now, and have not since that experiment; I never shall again.
There is one point which I wish to impress, which is too often overlooked, and yet is of the most vital importance to the poultry grower, and that is the early maturity of his market birds. I often hear growers say that as there is very little change in the poultry market during nine months of the year, and as they do not contend for the early spring prices anyway, if their birds are three or four weeks longer in maturing it does not matter. Does is not? I have always contended that it requires just so much to sustain life in either bird or animal, and the profit consists in what we can get them to consume and digest over and above that; and if the time required to do this is protracted longer than is necessary, it is done at the expense of the grower.
If it takes ten weeks to grow five pounds of flesh on one bird and fourteen weeks on another the one must necessarily cost more than the other per pound, simply because you have to sustain life four weeks longer inone case than in the other, and that cannot be done for nothing. That is why, though I can easily grow a pound of duck for six cents, I must have eight cents to grow a pound of chicken, because the ducks will take on six pounds of flesh in ten weeks, while the chicken requires twenty weeks to obtain the same size. These appear trivial matters when a person grows only a few dozen fowls yearly, but when he makes a life business of it and grows fowls by the thousands, it is of the utmost importance.
The above shows the necessity of first-class breeding stock to start with. I do not mean fancy stock at all, as many of the points of excellence claimed by the American standard militate directly against the market value of the birds. A few years ago several men came here to buy Pekin ducks for breeding stock. On looking at the birds and getting the price, one man said: "Those are the best birds I ever saw. I want thirty of the best birds you have." Another said: "They are fine birds, but I cannot afford to pay two dollars for a duck; have you no cheaper birds?" "Yes, I have some later birds—culls from which the rest have been selected. They are not as large as these. My late birds never attain the size of the earlier-hatched ones, and they will not lay quite as early. You can have your choice of these at one dollar each, which is about their market value."
He took those birds, and I consider when he made that choice that he threw away more than $100 of his first season's work alone, for, with a fair share of success he might easily expect to raise 100 young birds from each of his breeding ducks, and as the birds he chose were at least one-third lighter than those herejected, their progeny would not be as heavy at a marketable age by at least one pound per bird. The excess in cost to him, had he bought the better birds, would have been but one cent on each of the young birds he raised. He lost, on making the choice he did, more than twenty cents on each bird, and this is not all; those birds will be small for generations to come. He never can get them up to the standard of the others. They will go upon the market as small birds, and as such, command at least two cents per pound less than the larger ones; in fact, his losses in this transaction will represent a large share of the profits.
I will now suppose that the breeder has secured his stock, erected his building, and is ready for business. The next thing is to feed them well, keep them warm and comfortable, giving them as great a variety of green food as is obtainable during the winter months, in order to induce winter laying and insure fertility of the eggs. This matter requires close attention, because the profits in one week of the early market will always equal the profits in four or five of the late. The proportion of the sexes in the early spring should be about one drake to five or six ducks.
One point here I wish to emphasize particularly and that is in the selection of drakes. The drakes should be, at least, two months older than the ducks, as the latter will mature some two or three months earlier and begin their egg production two or three months before the drakes are ready for breeding. As a consequence, we always select our February hatched drakes for breeding purposes.
This comes a little hard, as these birds will average to dress seven to nine pounds at ten weeks old and willalways bring, at least, 30c per pound at that time in the market, making them worth about $2.50 each. Would-be purchasers think we are crazy when we charge $3 each for these birds at eight months old, expecting us to keep them for six months and coop them for less than fifty cents.
Now this selection of early hatched birds is absolutely necessary for good profits, as early hatched, means early reproduction and these great profits can hardly be ignored. We sold thousands of birds the past spring for 30c per pound, having almost complete control of Boston and New York markets for at least six weeks.
Later in the season, when many of the ducks are off duty from a desire to incubate, the proportion should be about one drake to ten ducks. Be particular about this, as the eggs will be much more fertile if a part of the drakes are removed. The feeding boxes should be long and roomy; mine are 6x7 feet long, eight inches wide and three inches high. This is essential, as the birds are rapid eaters, and if there is not room, some will gorge themselves to repletion, while others will get but little. Do not keep food by them, as that will clog their appetites, and always effects the egg production, as well as the condition of the birds.
I have often visited poultry establishments where the food was lying around in all conditions,—in troughs, on the ground, trodden upon, mixed with excrement and filth; had become sour and offensive, so that the birds would not eat it. The attendant would go his rounds periodically and throw more food upon the already offensive mass; the owner looking on, passively complaining that his ducks did not lay and his ducklings would not fat.
I require my men to go the rounds after feeding, and if there is any food left, to take it up clean. If this is insisted on they will soon learn to feed just what is required and no more. Clean feeding is of the utmost importance, both for young and old birds, as neither will thrive from overfeeding, as it destroys the appetite completely. Another essential thing is that ducks will not produce their proper quota of fertile eggs on hard food alone.
The natural food of the duck is principally vegetable and animal, and is obtained in brooks, puddles, swales, and consists of flag, grass roots, small fish, pollywogs, etc. Unlike the hen, the duck has no crop,—the passage or duct leading from the throat to gizzard direct, is very small compared to the size of the bird. Consequently it does not assimilate or thrive on hard food. I am continually receiving letters from amateurs during the months of March and April, complaining that their ducks do not lay, at the same time saying that they give them all the corn they will eat. I write back suggesting soft food, giving ingredients and proportions. In an incredibly short space of time a postal will come to hand saying, "Thanks, my ducks are all laying." Success or failure in the poultry business often date their origin from just such trivial things as the above. So insignificant in themselves as to be entirely overlooked by the novice who, if he is persevering, will eventually discover both cause and remedy; but only through years of costly experiment and a loss of valuable time which he can never recall.
There should be quite a distinction between feeding ducks to obtain a supply of eggs and feeding them formarket, as in one case the object is to lay on fat and the other is to furnish the most available supply of egg material. As before hinted, soft food is much more readily utilized in a duck's organization than a hen's. We make a habit of turning out our breeding ducks to pasture during the moulting season, housing them in the fall according to the nature of the season, say, from the middle of November to the first of December. We feed soft food morning and evening composed largely of bran with a little meal, keeping them purposely short to induce them to forage for themselves, but when the birds are housed this is all changed.
They are then fed on equal parts of corn meal, wheat-bran and low-grade flour, with about twelve or fifteen per cent. of animal food. One fourth of this food should be composed of vegetables cooked—say, small potatoes, turnips, etc., with all the green rye and refuse cabbage they will eat. We feed this compound morning and evening with a little corn, wheat and oats at noon. Feed all the birds will eat clean and no more. The birds, young and old, may be expected to lay in three weeks from the time they are housed. This part of the thing seems to be under perfect control. You turn in the proper variety of food and they cannot help turning out a generous supply of eggs.
The fertility however, cannot, at this season of the year be so perfectly controlled, as the standard of fertility in the first eggs is apt to be very low, but soon comes to a high point. The fecundity of these birds is wonderful. As a general thing each bird can be depended upon for 140 eggs each season, and as the eggs always command from 5 to 10 cents per dozen more than those from hens it makes the Pekin ducks more profitable for eggs alone than any other fowl.
With the necessary buildings constructed and the stock selected, the next thing required is the incubator, for I do not suppose the modern poultry grower is going to do his incubating with hens, for the simple reason that he cannot afford to. Hens show no desire to incubate when you want them to the most, or in time to command the high prices for ducks and chicks in the early spring, and this is attended with a loss of at least one-half of the season's profits.
I often have letters filled with questions concerning incubators. Which is the best incubator? Can a person of ordinary intelligence run one successfully? Do they require watching during the night? Is there an incubator in the market today that will hatch as well as the average hen? and many more of like import. To the first I would say that modesty forbids a candid answer. There are objections to many machines, though the same do not apply to all. It does not become me to mention their failings. But first of all do not buy a cheap incubator, as the conditions to which the material of an incubator is exposed are of the severest kind. It must be exposed constantly to a temperature of 103 degrees, and that in an atmosphere surcharged with moisture; and unless the material of which the machine is constructed is of the choicest kind, well kiln-dried and put together, the chances are that it will warp out of shape, admit drafts of air and injure, if not destroy, the regulation.
I do not think an incubator can ever be complete unless it is a double-cased machine. It requires that to effectually resist thermal changes. Years of careful experiment, and of experience in the competitive show room have convinced me of the truth of this. Extreme cold will affect the uniformity of heat in the egg-chamberof single-cased machines. Imagine if you can a single-cased machine constructed of five-eighth inch stuff, with a temperature of 103 degrees inside, and that of freezing outside. How can the eggs at the extreme corners and the thin cold sides of that machine be as warm as those in the centre? Of course that difference does not exist in warm weather, but that is the time when incubators are usually let alone and the business is given up to the old hen. Now, I say this frankly, as much for the benefit of incubator manufacturers as for their customers. I have letters every day from parties ordering circulars and saying that they have used from one to three machines of different makes, denouncing the machines and their makers in the most emphatic terms as frauds. Now, this is all wrong; one-half of the time you will find that it is the purchasers, not the makers, who are at fault. There are probably just as many honest incubator makers as there are in any other branch of business. But there is such a thing as a man being honest and yet ignorant.
Many of the manufacturers of incubators know very little about the first principles of artificial incubation. They have the idea that a simple heat regulator is all that is necessary to insure the success of an incubator, when in reality it is only one of the many requirements. I will enumerate some of the most essential points, viz.: heat regulation; uniformity of heat in egg-chamber; absolute control of heat by the operator on any given egg-tray; automatic moisture supply; accurate thermometers; thorough construction and good material to avoid warping and shrinkage, together with a safe lamp adjustment.
There are many other minor points which will come up with care of machines. I am often asked, "Why do so many fail to hatch with incubators?" I will answerby saying: "Not because it is difficult; for I have always found it a far more difficult thing to grow ducks and chicks successfully after they are hatched, than it is to hatch them." Doubtless everyone knows that an incubator, different from other machines, must run three weeks continually night and day, (and when filled with duck eggs, four weeks,) and preserve an even temperature all the while.
Some machines as described above, are not adapted to this business, and some men are not adapted to the use of machines even when they are good ones. They are not willing to bestow the little but intelligent and regular care required, and many times during the four weeks they will forget some of the most essential points, such as replenishing their lamps, or forget to attach the extinguishers, thus depriving the machine of all self-control, or they neglect to trim the lamps for days, and perhaps a week, allowing the wick to crust and the heat to decrease. Others of nervous temperament will open their machines every fifteen minutes during the day and get up many times during the night to do the same thing, necessarily creating a great variation in the temperature of the machine. Now, all these, when repeated often enough, mean disaster and grief. One man who had been very successful, said he liked the hatching very well, but there was too much confinement growing chicks and ducks, and he was not going to make a slave of himself any longer.
Another very young man who has been uniformly successful, and is running four large machines, said that the hatching and care of incubators was nothing, as he simply looked at his machines twice per day, but that the care of chicks and ducks was hard work; but there was more money in it than anything else he could do, and he should stick to it. Another man, because hismachine did not run to suit him, threw his boot at it, knocking the regulation all off, which he called upon me to duplicate. (This man has done better since and increased the number of his machines). So the reader will see that there are cranks even among the poultry men, and that many of them enter the poultry business simply because they are looking for an easy job,—a sad mistake on their part. I have always noticed that the man who knows the least, but is willing to acquire knowledge and follow instructions implicitly, is the man who generally succeeds.
Having secured a good machine, the next thing is to locate it where it will give you the least trouble to run it, and at the same time do you the most good. The best place for this is either in a barn or house cellar or in some building partly under ground, for obvious reasons. Though a good machine can be regulated to run in any temperature (provided it can generate heat enough), yet constant thermal changes of 30 or 40 degrees between night and day will necessitate regulating to meet them,—as the amount of flame required to run a machine in a temperature of 40 degrees, will be far in excess of that needed to run it in one of 70 degrees, for, though the change will be very slow in a nicely packed double cased machine, yet in time even that change will affect.
This, of course, could be easily overcome with a little care, yet it is just as well to avoid all unnecessary care and trouble in the beginning; there will be still enough left to keep you thinking. In a common building above ground during the winter months it will often freeze around your machine, and in turning eggs in a freezing atmosphere do it as quickly as you can, as it will alwayscool your eggs perceptibly, and more or less derange the temperature of your machine. This is of course decidedly injurious and will more or less impair the hatch. Now, this is a very important matter, and people do not give it sufficient consideration.
It is even advocated by some incubator manufacturers, that eggs should be cooled every day to 70 degrees, for the simple reason that the old hen does. They do not take into consideration that it is a necessity for the old hen, but may not be for the embryo chick. When the hen leaves her eggs to feed, and they become partially cold, when she recovers them and brings those eggs in immediate contact with the rapidly-pulsating arteries of her body, in fifteen minutes they have acquired their normal heat. With the machine it will require an hour or two.
To meet this difficulty, suitable instructions should be given with and to suit different machines. Where the eggs are turned automatically inside the machine, it is necessary that they should be cooled at least once a day during the last two weeks of the hatch. Taking the eggs out to turn twice each day, as in the Monarch, cools them sufficiently during the winter months; in warm weather, leaving the outside and inside doors open while turning cools them sufficiently.
Some incubator manufacturers will tell you that thermal changes, however great, will not affect their machines. Their patrons tell a different story. No machine was ever made, or ever will be, that will run as well or give as good results amid constant thermal changes as in an even temperature. It is true that they reduce the heat, but it is by admitting large draughts of air, running off the moisture and completely destroying the humidity of atmosphere in their machines. Then, how about those little ducklings which have been pippedforty-eight hours? They can never get out unless you help them.
Many insurance companies object to incubators being run in buildings covered by their policies, and will often cancel them. This originated from the fact that so many fire-traps, which were thrust upon the public in the shape of incubators, had consumed the buildings in which they were operated. The insurance companies were obliged in self-defence to prohibit their use in insured buildings. But the interdiction is usually removed upon the representation that the machine is safe. Sometimes a slight premium is exacted. In the event of insurance companies being obdurate, it is very easy to excavate a place in a side hill, or on level ground. Stone it up five feet high at the sides. It is not necessary to dig more than two or three feet deep, as the excavated dirt can be used to bank up with on the outside. Upon this stone-work put a simple roof. I use a building of this description. The original cost, exclusive of labor, was $15. It was large enough for two machines. My new incubator room is ten times as large, but the cost was in proportion.
OUR INCUBATOR HOUSE.
This building never freezes in winter, and is always some ten or fifteen degrees colder than the outside temperature in summer, making a very handy place to keep eggs for incubating purposes. It is well to run your machine a few days and get the control of it. The next thing is to fill it with fresh fertile eggs. In the winter time, if one does not have eggs himself, this is sometimes a very difficult thing to do, for the eggs must not only be fresh, but fertile. The young beginner is often obliged to depend upon others for his eggs when first starting in the business, but the poulterer, as a rule, cannotafford to do this, because he can grow them a good deal cheaper than he can buy; and not only this, and what is more to the point, he, by proper care and feed during the winter months, can make his own eggs a great deal more fertile than any he can buy of others. Usually about one-third of our novices go right to the stores and purchase eggs to fill their machines with.
This is running a great risk, especially during the winter months, but will give the reader an idea of the amount of knowledge that many of our would-be poultry men have acquired to begin with, and when he knows that the incubator has to shoulder all these mistakes, he will naturally have a little sympathy for the maker. Several years ago I sold a six hundred-egg machine to a lady, who, on receiving it, filled it promptly with eggs obtained from the grocers. Now, as this was in the month of December, it was, to say the least, an exceedingly doubtful operation. As she only got about forty chicks she was naturally very much dissatisfied, and strongly denounced both the machine and the maker. Her husband suggested that possibly the machine was not to blame, and that the eggs might have something to do with it. They went to the grocer to enquire about it. He told them that he had had some of those eggs on hand for several weeks, and that they had been exposed to the cold and freezing weather, and that probably the farmers from whom he had obtained them had held them for high prices.
They found on enquiry that this was the case, and one party especially, who kept a large number of hens, and from whom he had collected the largest share of his eggs, kept no "crowers" with his hens. This threw some light on the subject, and stock on that incubator went up at once. The next time she had parties save their eggs for her, taking them in several times eachday. She then obtained a hatch of ninety per cent, and was uniformly successful afterwards, getting out some 3,000 chicks and ducks during the season with her machine.
The above is only one case out of many that are constantly taking place. In nine cases out of ten, failure with good machines may be traced directly to the operator or the eggs. Occasionally there is a defect in a machine overlooked by the maker, which he is in honor bound to make good.
The best way to secure good eggs is to engage them beforehand from reliable parties, who will gather them carefully several times each day in cold weather to prevent them chilling, and turn them at least every other day. If these eggs are kept on end it is not necessary to turn them as often.
I have egg boxes for the purpose, in which the eggs are set on end, like the common market box. These boxes and contents can be turned as readily with a dozen as when full. Eggs intended for incubation should always be kept in a cool place,—duck eggs especially,—as the fertile eggs will change at a temperature of eighty-five to ninety degrees, and spoil within three or four days. One may safely calculate on one-half of them being spoiled in a week at a temperature of 80 degrees. All kinds of eggs can be safely kept three weeks for purposes of incubation, say, at forty-five to fifty degrees, though I always like to have them as fresh as possible.
In filling orders for eggs at a distance I make it a point never to send eggs more than four days old, or with less than seventy-five per cent of fertility. Transportation, even over rough roads, does not affect their hatching, except in extreme warm weather, when thecontents, becoming thin and slightly evaporated through the heat, are apt to mix, when they will surely cloud and rot. I have often sent eggs 2,000 miles, with the report that every egg produced a duckling. With machine ready and running steadily the eggs may be introduced at once. They need no moisture now, and it is not necessary to disturb them for the first forty-eight hours.
Place your thermometer on the eggs in middle of egg-tray. Be sure, in the first place, that you get a good glass, as all depends upon its accuracy. Do not use one with the mercury bulb lying upon a solid metal plate, as the refraction of heat upon the plate from the tank above will always run that glass one or two degrees higher than the heat in the egg-chamber, but get one, if possible, with a hole in the plate opposite the bulb, so that the heat can play around the bulb and through the plate, giving the correct heat of eggs and chamber. Do not hang your glass up over the eggs, or put it down between the eggs, but lay it on them, for the reason that, though either of these positions may be all right during the first twelve days of the hatch (if your eggs are fertile), they will surely be all wrong during the last part.
I will endeavor to explain this thing, so that the novice will understand how important it is. Before circulation begins in the embryo chick or duck, and there is no animal heat in the egg, the temperature of the egg chamber regulates that of the eggs. But after circulation begins, and especially during the latter part of the hatch, when the rapidly-developing young bird throws out a great deal of heat, the thing is often completely reversed. For instance, a glass may be hung one inch above the eggs and another placed immediately on the eggs beneath. The one above may register 102 degrees;the one below, on the eggs, will register 105 degrees,—conclusively showing that the eggs are now, by their own caloric, heating the egg-chamber.
I have often, during the last part of a hatch, when the thermometer was ranging from 70 to 80 degrees outside of machine, placed a glass on the hottest part of the boiler, where but one lamp was dimly burning, carefully covering the glass. In that position it would register perhaps 96 to 98 degrees, while a glass inside the machine, and on the eggs, would register 103 degrees, proving beyond a doubt that the eggs, by their own caloric, were not only heating the egg-chamber, but contributing their quota towards heating the water in the tank. Now, who will pretend to say that a glass hanging above the eggs will give the correct heat of the egg after circulation begins. So that, even in cold weather, the amount of oil consumed during the last week of the hatch is less than half the amount required during the first part.
The operator must not expect the eggs to heat up at once. On the contrary, they will cool the air in the egg-chamber very sensibly, though they will not affect the heat of the water in the tank. It will be from five to eight hours before they arrive at their normal heat.
At the end of forty-eight hours they may be turned. This should be done by gathering up the eggs at the end of egg-tray and placing them upon the eggs in centre of the tray, rolling the centre ones back to the end of the tray. The tray should be reversed, and the same thing done to the other end. It is not necessary that the eggs should be completely reversed,—simply change the position, rolling over one-half or one-third.
The egg-trays should always be turned end for end,and changed from end to centre of machine. This is necessary in case there should not be a uniform heat in egg-chamber, as it will equalize matters, and, in a measure, obviate the difficulty. Now, all this, though it takes some time to describe it, can be done very quickly, requiring only a few moments for each machine. I usually allow about ten minutes for each 1,000 eggs, though it can be done much quicker if one is in a hurry. I am often requested by people to put in patent automatic egg-turning trays in my machines, it would so simplify matters. I reply:
"So it would; and when you can produce a machine with a perfect uniformity of heat in the egg-chamber, I should be most happy to use an automatic tray, but I have never yet seen that machine." In our own double-cased Monarch, in cold weather, there is at least one degree difference between the end and centre of egg-tray. In single-cased machines this difference must be largely increased, and in automatic trays the eggs must necessarily remain where they are placed through the entire hatch. Now, under these conditions, if the heat is right in the centre of trays it must be all wrong in the ends. The hatch will be protracted long after the proper time, and if those on the ends of trays come out at all it will be forty-eight hours behind time and with weakened constitutions, keeping one in constant stir with their sickly plaints. It is needless to say that there is a great mortality among birds of that description, and at the end of ten days they are usually among the things that were.
The next thing is testing the eggs. This matter is essential as well as economical, with both hens and incubators. I once knew a man who ran a six hundred-eggmachine for three weeks on one fertile egg. The other 599 proved infertile, and he did not know it until they refused to hatch at the end of three weeks—a great waste of oil, but a greater waste of time,—three whole weeks in the best part of the season. Another man kept forty hens sitting three weeks with an average of one fertile egg to each bird, when three of them could have done all the hatching just as well, and then, at the end of four days, could have had the rest put upon better eggs.
A great waste of hen power, you will say, with time lost, together with forty dozen eggs, which would have been just as good for table use had they been tested out in four days. It often happens in the winter, when eggs are apt to be infertile, that, after testing the contents of four trays, they can be contained in three, when the other can be filled with fresh eggs. Here is where the advantage of adjustable trays comes in. Often the operator running a large machine has not eggs enough to fill it without a part of the eggs becoming very old, and also losing ten or twelve days of valuable time; with the adjustable tray, eggs can be introduced at any time, and the same heat preserved on all. I usually test duck eggs at the end of the third day. The fertile germ is then plainly visible, and the eggs can be passed before the light, several at a time.
The novice had better postpone the operation till the fourth day, when he, too, will have no trouble in detecting the germ. The same rule will hold good with all white eggs, but dark-brown eggs should not be tested till the sixth or seventh day. This can be done much sooner, but a large machine full cannot be tested in a minute, and the eggs should be far enough advanced so that the operator can take two or three in his hand at once, and passing them before the flame, readily detectthe germ. I never use a tester for duck eggs, as a simple flame is sufficient, the egg being translucent.
During the first stages of incubation the germ is very distinct, even at the third day. The clear eggs are reserved for family use or disposed of to bakers. An expert cannot distinguish them from a fresh-laid egg, either in taste or appearance. There is usually a small percentage of the eggs that are slightly fertilized, in which the germ will die during the second or third day. These can be readily detected at the end of the fifth day, and should be taken from the machine, and reserved as food for the young ducklings. Another and potent reason why all infertile eggs, and those with dead chicks in them, should be taken out of the machine, is that after the circulation begins in the egg, especially during the last part of the hatch, the temperature of a live egg is several degrees higher than that of a dead one. The one radiates heat, the other absorbs it; so that if the operator is running his machine 102 degrees, with his glass on a dead egg, he may be all unconsciously running it at 104 or 105 degrees on a live one.
I had a letter from a man some time ago stating that his thermometers were developing strange freaks,—that though they registered the same while in water, at 103 degrees, when lying on the eggs a few inches from each other in the machine, they were several degrees apart, and wishing to know by which he should run, the higher or lower. I wrote him that his glasses were all right, and that he was the one at fault, and had he followed instructions and tested his eggs he would have had no such trouble. He wrote that as his machine was not quite full, and as he had plenty of room, he neglected to test them, thinking it would make no difference.
I do not propose here to give my experience, together with the many experiments made during the last twentyyears, but shall aim to give the reader simple instructions for hatching and growing ducks for market and selection of breeding stock. I would say here that the first thing for the operator to learn in turning the eggs is to do it carefully and well, without breaking or unnecessarily jarring them; and then, to do it as quickly as possible, especially if done in a cold atmosphere, so as not to derange the heat in the egg-chamber. The next thing is to maintain as even a temperature as possible during the hatch. I do not think that a variation of one degree is at all detrimental. But different people have different ideas of regularity. A man who did not have a first-class hatch, wrote me that he had kept the machine right to business, as it had run between 90 and 110 degrees during the entire hatch. Another man wrote that his machine had been as low as 100 degrees, and once up to 103 degrees, and wishing to know if I thought it would be fatal to his hatch.
There is no such thing as accuracy in the composition of some men, things are run "hap-hazard," failure and misfortune are always attributed to conditions, circumstances, or hard luck,—never to themselves,—and in case of a poor hatch, always the incubator. Instructions go for nothing with them. An enterprising incubator maker told me one day that he believed that the world was composed of cranks and fools (at least the poultry part of it). The one-half did not know anything, while the other half had all that was worth knowing and despised all instructions and common-sense.
In running your machine, the first step is to set it level and see that the glasses register alike in both ends of the machine. Next, procure good oil, 150 test (as poor oil will necessitate frequent trimming, besides crusting the wick). Do not use more flame than is necessary, as it will only be a waste of oil, and with some machineswill increase the ventilation, and at the same time decrease the moisture. Be regular in both filling lamps and trimming them, as irregularity frequently involves forgetfulness, and that sometimes means disaster to the hatch. In trimming, it is well to turn on the same amount of flame in relighting your lamp as it had previously.