A funny story about setting; last summer we had a hen go broody and we let her set as we very much wanted some chicks from our old (and favorite) roo, and we knew he'd be a Dad to a least a couple. That poor hen sat on those eggs to the point where we named her Wannabe (a mom); every week or so she'd throw out one that'd gone bad; when we tried to put it back she'd growl and throw it out again. She finally gave up on all after about five weeks. We felt really bad for her.
In November we had another hen go broody. We ignored her, figuring none would hatch. At the beginning of December I was in the barn for something and heard something peeping; it finally dawned on me that it wasn't spring, and why would birds be peeping? I glanced over to the nest where she'd been in the corner of the barn, and saw her standing there surrounded by chicks, obviously thinking to herself "now what do I do?" We went to move her and the chicks to an elevated pen with a heat source. When we picked her up she screamed bloody murder and got the whole flock in a riot; there were chicks pouring everywhere like ping pong balls...there were fourteen of them, all colors and patterns! We finally caught and got them all moved; seven did die in subsequent weeks, (we were told to expect to lose about half of them); the rest survived and are now three months old. It's obvious that at least three have my favorite roo for a dad. Good luck!
