The Chronicles of a WannaBe Farmer but Never a Butcher!
—by HomeRearedChef, Suburban Mother Hen
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
I am adding another page to the chronicles of our latest venture in the life of a “wanna-be farmer”; of raising chickens and all that it entails.
Today, exactly one month from when hubby and I first paid a visit to Home Depot, and on the spur-of-the-moment bought the first of the materials required to begin building a proper foundation, for constructing a hen house, the chicken coop is done!
Hen house dimensions: Five-foot four by six-foot eight is the footprint. And the peak of it is over five-feet tall. Hubby also built nine nest boxes, since we are still undecided as to how many chickens we will eventually have. (Having plenty of nests go a long way in helping to keep discord at a minimum.)
Now I won’t disguise or paint a pretty picture to what has really been going on these past couple of weeks. We have, in truth, been feeling rather anxious to finish the coop and get the pullets out and living in their own space.
Fact: The girls are growing bigger and bigger, [daily!], right before our very eyes; they no longer resemble little chicks. As little chicks they made adorable peep, beep sounds. Now, older, they can screech rather loudly, and, then, there’s the issue of raw smells emanating from their box, even if we do clean them on a daily basis. And as I mentioned before, they are taking up residence in our bathroom. And though they are comfortably contained in a very large box—everything they need to keep them happy is without-doubt being provided—hubby and I are seriously feeling crowded now. They stare at us like peeping Toms, stretching their necks, the better to see us—they see our every movement, hear and react to every sound, and, so, knowing we are near, demand our full and undivided attention.
And our attention they most certainly always get. They are irresistible, after all!
Finally, in order to avoid them, at least for those inopportune moments, we find ourselves tip-toeing in-and-out of our own bathroom, and even brushing our teeth elsewhere. Sigh. When we shower, however, they seem to be temporarily lulled.
But today my hubby finished the hen house!
Like confetti being tossed in the air, we spread a generous, cushiony layer of pine shavings to every corner of the coop—nests included. We then filled their food bin (hung from a beam strategically placed in a corner of the coop), and, too, placed a 3-gallon water bottle, of heavy-duty plastic, elevated with bricks to a perfect height. We then promptly took our little flock of chicks out, to spend their first night in the comfort of their new home.
It was obvious to us the next morning that they were very happy with their new grand space. While I, on the other hand, had a sleepless night from worrying over them, worry-wart Mother Hen that I am.
We dream a life to be; we live to dream that life! (vka)
More from home