CHICKEN MANSION

Mostly done. We need to stake it down and Michael needs to build a new ramp for the coop.

14 Likes, 2 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "Mostly done. We need to stake it down and Michael needs to build a new ramp for the coop."

The chickens are still living in their old coop. There are still a few little adjustments that need to be made to their new space before they can move in officially. Their new space all started with the coop that JP gave us. The small run attached to the coop was way too small for our four chickens. We put them in it when we got the coop home and they barely had room to move around. That evening, Michael went to an open mic and I was alone at the house. I realized that the chickens had knocked the ramp from the coop and could not get inside for the night. It was already dark and I pondered how I was going to lift the run side of the old coop and herd chickens back into it at the same time. When I opened the new coop, they just stood there. So I picked them up one by one and placed them gently into the old coop. Except for Matilda, who decided to walk out of the new coop on her own, but then refused to go back into the old coop. I was the crazy lady in the backyard, talking to a chicken and a dog, because Josephine was out there “helping”.

We bought a 9 x 12 foot chicken enclosure and Micael removed the run from the new coop. We had hoped, maybe even expected, that the enclosure would come partially assembled in panels. The new enclosure came in a long box filled with poles and a roll of heavy duty chicken wire. Putting the poles together was the easy part. Wrapping the whole thing with the chicken wire was not so easy. One of us (me) had to be on the inside to help thread a zip-tie or a piece of wire through so that the chicken wire would be secured to the frame. When we got to the last section, the one with the door, I was trapped inside the coop until Michael could cut the chicken wire around the door. One of us found this situation to be pretty funny. On the days we have worked on the new coop, we have always let the chickens out of the old coop to roam around the yard. They have been very curious about the new space and there were times when I would turn around inside the coop and all four of them would be inside with me, pecking and scratching the ground. The day we worked on the last two sections of the enclosure, the chickens explored the yard, but they always ended up circling around us while we worked. At one point, Marguerite pecked at the chicken wire desperately trying to get inside. She needed to lay an egg. Michael lifted the old coop and she went right in and up to the nesting box. Her first instinct though was to go to the new coop. Their new space is going to be so nice. The new coop is easier to clean. There is a large door for easy access. No more lifting up a heavy coop to let the chickens out or get them back in. Michael always had to be the one to refill their water feeder because I can not lift the coop and slide the water feeder in at the same time.

Before we decided to replace the chicken coop, we talked about what would happen when the chickens die. We thought that maybe we would not replace them. Whenever we took a break from working on the enclosure, we would watch the chickens as they pecked and scratched around the yard. At one point, Dorothy snagged a fat slug and then there was a mad chase across the yard as the other chickens tried to steal it away. Michael said that we would wait until at least two chickens died and then replace them with one. Instead of having four chickens, we’d have three. That is what we had originally intended when the first coop was built. Three chickens are probably a better fit for our space. Though I have to admit, I enjoy watching our four chickens and how they interact with each other. I enjoy their individual personalities. We might just end up with another one of those situations where Michael tells me to pick one and then I look at him with big eyes and say “maybe we should get two in case one of them doesn’t make it.”

We’ll see.

LOVE THURSDAY

Clipped wings.

"Clipped wings."

Michael and I have been discussing clipping the chickens' wings for some time, but both of us have been really kind of scared of the idea of doing it. Contrary to popular belief, chickens can fly. I mean, they can't fly far and I would say that they can't fly too high, but someone told me about coming home to a chicken on their roof once. So they can at least fly up as high as a house. We've been leery of letting the chickens roam the yard for fear of one them flying up over a fence and into danger. We've seen them literally fly out of their coop in the mornings. We needed to clip some wings.

Monday evening, after a day of bike riding, I suggested that we clean out the coop and maybe clip some wings. The weather has been just like everyone else's here in the Midwest, rainy and damp and soggy. We've only been able to do the minimum required maintenance for the chickens. Finally we had a nice warm evening between rain storms to pull everything out and give it all a good scrub. We also decided that this would be a good time to clip wings. First, we watched a YouTube video on how to clip wings. They made it look really simple and not traumatic at all and we looked at each other and said "we can totally do this!" And we did this in four easy steps. 

Step 1: Catch the chicken. The chickens do not come when they are called and pretty much turn and run the other way when they see your hand coming into the coop. Michael designed the coop so that the back end opens completely. This allows us easy access for cleaning and the (one day) collection of eggs. This is also a way to let the chickens out to wander and peck around the yard. We used this to our advantage by waiting at the ready for one of the chickens as they tried to hop out the door. Dorothy was the only one who didn't make it all the way out of the coop before being captured. The other three had a grand time being chased around the swamp of our backyard. 

Step 2: Hold the chicken. When you first catch the chicken, there is a moment of struggle where the chicken tries to get away. Flapping of wings and squawking sounds. Marguerite, Matilda, and Dorothy calm down relatively quickly once they are held snug against my body. Foghorn wants none of it. She squawked and flapped like she was being caught for dinner. We spent a few extra minutes reassuring her that no one was going to eat her.

Step 3: Cut the wings. More specifically, you cut the flight wings on the left. We used kitchen shears because Michael said "they're made to cut chicken." I held the bird tucked up against me with on hand and covered their eyes with my other hand so they couldn't see what was happening, while Michael very carefully cut the flight feathers. I think it's important to make soothing cooing sounds to your chicken while this happens even though it doesn't hurt them to cut these wings. It's like clipping your toenails. 

Step 4: Release the chicken! This really isn't a step. I just thought this whole process needed a bit more dramatic flair. It sounds a lot like "Release the Kraken!" It also sounds like once the chicken is free and no longer has flight wings on her left wing, she might do something silly. Like flap around in half flight in a circle. This does not happen. Once the chicken is placed on the ground, she just goes about her business of pecking around the yard. This is exactly just what we let them do while we cleaned out their coop. 

When all of the wings had been clipped, Michael declared that we were farmers, which made me smile. Later on that evening after we'd cleaned ourselves up from chasing chickens in the mud, I sat outside watching them with Josephine. I heard them making real honest to God grown-up chickens sounds with clucks and buk-coks and everything. I imagined that they were talking to each other. I said as much to Michael and he said that they were probably discussing their new haircuts. "Y'all, just what do ya think of my new do?" That would be Matilda. She's bold and Southern and the only chicken that wants to have anything to do with Josephine.  "Es tres chic. I would know, since I was ze first to have it." Marguerite, of course, speaks with a French accent. She is still the smallest of the four, but has turned into a very pretty little petite chicken.  I suspect that Foghorn is our Rosalind Russell Auntie Mame with her penchant for drama, wile Dorothy is more Charlene Frazier. She's a bit silly. I've seen her bump her head a few times.  We have an interesting cast of characters in our backyard. 

I long for the days when things dry out enough to have the chickens out more. I'd like to get Josephine used to the idea of sharing the backyard with them without her trying to play with them to death or eat them. I saw the first firefly of the season a few evenings ago and it gave me hope that dryer days are coming. Soon there will be lazy warm Saturday evenings spent lounging in the hammock with a dog under my feet and chickens pecking around the yard. 

Happy Love Thursday!

GARDEN DIARIES. NOW WITH CHICKENS!

Sprouts

"Sprouts"

'Tis the season for gardening and it's that time of year when I start taking pictures of dirt with teeny tiny sprouts poking up out of the ground. The first of the sprouts have arrived. A mix of lettuces and spinach and kale have begun to stick their heads up and soon we will have more greens than we can eat. Last weekend Michael took his truck and filled the bed with a cubic yard of garden soil and then we took turns hauling dirt out to the new garden boxes. I planted all of the seeds, leaving space for tomato plants and herb plants that I'll buy next month. Next we'll be constructing a chicken wire fence around it to keep critters out. And by critters, I mean Josephine. She's decided that there's nothing more fun than digging and prancing around in the mud. She came in one day with mud so squished up between her toes that there was no other option but to dunk her in the tub. The threat of a bath does not seem to be a deterrent.

Which brings me to the rain. April showers indeed. Our backyard squishes and there have been more days of rain than days without. This has made it difficult for Michael to finish the chicken coop. He took Friday off so he could get it finished and ready for the girls and to get the yard mowed. When I got home from work he was ready to put the chickens in the coop so they could spend their first night in their new home. Matilda was the first to walk out the door and then fly down to the ground. Foghorn and Dorothy followed soon after, exploring their new home one at a time. Marguerite has gone only as far as the ramp. She's the most timid of the girls. Michael had to go out around eleven that night and coax her from her perch on the ramp to the warmth of the roosting box. 

Saturday night Michael and I watched To Make a Farm, a documentary about five young people who have chosen to become small scale farmers. One young man was starting his farm from scratch, living basically out of a tent. He'd built himself a lean-too for his kitchen out of salvaged material. There was one young couple who had worked on an organic farm for a few years before venturing out to buy their own. Then there was a young woman who had thought she was going to be an environmentalist when she left college, but ended up a farmer. She has the help of her husband who also works from home as a computer animator. Each farm was different and none of them came from a family of farmers. Some people may scoff "Oh those silly hipsters.", but watching them work so hard and struggle to succeed, you can't help but respect them for their vision. The young environmentalist raised sheep, pigs, chickens and turkeys as well as produce. One of her sheep delivered twins and there was a moment when the vet believed they may have a bacterial infection and would have to be put down. I cried with her as she stood at the fence watching her flock. Heck, I cried with her on slaughter day when it was time to load her pigs up. 

Each one of these people talked about the romanticism associated with the idea of farming and each one them rolled their eyes at the idea of someone doing this for that very reason. What you see from this documentary is that farming is fucking hard work. It is constantly worrying about getting enough rain or getting too much rain. There is heartbreak when plants come down with blight and a whole crop has to be removed. There is even the strain of isolation. After watching the documentary, Michael and I both agreed that we were happy with the little urban farm we've got going. 

It rained all day on Saturday, the first full day for the chickens to be out in their new home. They didn't poke their heads out the door until later that evening when the rain had finally stopped. We had yet to see them all out in their run doing the things that most chickens do. The sun didn't really come out on Sunday, but the sky lightened up enough for the girls to come out. We looked out the kitchen window and all four of them, even shy Marguerite, were out scratching around and pecking at the ground. We're constantly looking at each other with big stupid grins on our faces and saying "We've got chickens!" Then we just sit and watch them. They've become the best new TV show. 

Even Josephine thinks so.