Apr 11, 2012

It All Began With Chickens

Because the chickens are getting too big for their box and I tried putting them in their chicken coop after nailing the door closed and adding sawdust and securing the back doors after raising the coop up a few inches so it wouldn't rot but the dog dug under the chicken coop until it tipped over and the doors flew open and she sniffed at the terrified creatures until she was satisfied that she didn't want to eat them at this point in time and then they found the weakest one and started pecking at it after their near death experience so I returned them to their little box.

Which led me to Costco to get another box so I could turn their one boxroom into a two boxroom by joining the two boxes with lots of packing tape. But that didn't solve the problem that they are still getting up on the edge of the box to roost which is not a problem until they tip over and fall on the cement and realize they are separated from their friends and get scared and cheep like crazy.

Which led me to IFA to try to solve the chicken problem and I ran into my friends I haven't seen for awhile and they made me laugh so hard I snorted and gave me chicken tips and I bought T-posts for their chicken run and zip ties but they didn't have poultry mesh.

Which led me to Lowe's where I got into a deep discussion about the pros and cons of chicken runs and chicken tractors and the homesteading movement of the 1970's and Scott and Helen Nearing and I bought netting and other expensive little knick knacks for chicken keeping.

Which led me to the gas pump because I was running on fumes so I filled the tank. $62. Which nearly led me to a coronary episode.

Which finally brought me home where 14 year old and 7 year old helped me saw, cut, staple, tape, dig, pound, tie, hammer, screw, drill, hide a broken drill bit and clean up leaving the chickens with a nice big home for the next three weeks that they can't jump out of and freak out, a chicken coop that is more airtight, and a partially finished chicken run with netting buried 6" under the dirt to discourage certain stupid labrador dogs from getting too close.

Which is why I was still in my yoga pants at 9:15 at night before I finally took my shower for the day.

Then as I was laying down for bed I turned toward my husband and told him we needed to move a sprinkler head and he sighed in response. Which is when I suggested that instead of moving the sprinkler head we put in a drip system which will be better for the garden, anyway. He agreed with the drip system and forgot his filter when he added that he didn't want to move a sprinkler head for chickens he doesn't think we are going to actually have.

The chickens in the garage beg to differ on that point. And they are deeply offended by his implication.

3 comments:

CountessLaurie said...

Oh dear. I am exhausted for you. I have just one question. Did you name them? Cuz if you did, I guess we're having omelettes. If you didn't, we might be having chicken piccata :)

Kim said...

I hope your neighborhood doesn't have some crazy zoning law that's anti-poultry, or you'll be selling all your stuff on Ebay and miss yet another daytime shower.

Joan said...

Maybe you and Kaye can take your chickens for walks for exercise and then when they are healthy and bigger and when they lay an over abundance of eggs, you can haul them over here along with a good book for me to read. I love my
kooky (in a good way) neighbors.