Chickie Babies

I found two tiny chicks the day before yesterday.  One was on the porch and the other in the driveway.  I know this newborn chick didn't hop up the steps to the porch.  I figure a cat carried it up for a reason only known to the cat - perhaps a snack for later?  I rescued the little ones and snooped around for the mother hen.  A hen will hatch as many chicks as she can in the nest, then take them out to teach them how to survive.  I suspect these unfortunate babies hatched after mom and siblings left town.  Hens are very mobile and travel all over the farm in search of food and water.  The brave little chicklings try their best to keep up with her.  It's pitiful to see them trying to climb over a step or a rock, as big as a mountain to them.  I knew I didn't have much of a chance of finding the right mom, but I tried.  I finally settled on a hen who had tucked her babies under her among the bales in the hay mow, ready for darkness to descend.  At the least bit of perceived night-time, chickens either roost up high if they are childless, or hide the brood somewhere safe.  I offered the two chirping babies to the mom, who immediately tried to peck at me.  I was relieved to see she didn't peck at the chicks, tiny wisps of feathers who burrowed under the warm mother.  I could sense their satisfaction at finding a home.  A day went by and I thought I better climb up the ladder and check on what's going on up there.  Sadly, the mother hen had left the hay cave with her own chicks and the newborns were still there, chilled and scared.  I put them in the "Cradle of Civilization"  to warm them up.  I was warm and sweaty, a perfect oven for the babies.  It was kind of fun to carry them around as I did my chores, made soap, cooked dinner and spun wool yesterday.  They peeped to each other all day long.   I gave them water and a little feed to scratch, but noticed they didn't eat or drink much.  There is nothing like a species-specific mom to teach you what you need to know.   I was afraid to go to sleep with chicks in my bra, as I would surely roll over and smother them, so I made a little bed in a box on the kitchen counter.  The little angels didn't make it through the night.  Okay, I tried.  I always berate myself with things like, why didn't I set up a light bulb (but it was hot in the kitchen) or why didn't I search longer and harder for the right mom (she was probably busy with the chicks she had already).  Every life is precious.  It's an awesome responsibility to care for all these little souls.  In the meantime, there are chickens sitting on eggs in the most unusual places.  I do try to pull eggs on a daily places, in all the hiding spots I am aware of.  The clever girls know my habits, and use the barn clutter to defy me.