Coopaholic

Five years, six coops. 
How did this happen?

The first coop I built, as I recall, was pretty darn perfect.  It kept the young ladies safe and comfortable, and it looked rather adorable in the backyard.  

When Lucy's feet were damaged by disease, of course I had to build the Special Needs coop for her.  It, too, looked good and served its purpose.  

With no reason to build another coop, I started sketching and building chicken-tractors and play-structures and cage-things... 

....because you can never have too many tractors and play structures and cage things.

But when my little barred rock, Pigeon, came along, she and I needed a project. Pigeon inspired me to build just one more coop.

Pigeon was a good little helper.  

Here's Coop #3.

Pigeon never lived in this one. Nobody ever lived in this one. Though my heavenly blue morning glories lived ON it.... and it did serve as a handy jailhouse for Lil'White on the many occasions that she deserved incarceration.  

The flock grew, as flocks do, and I decided that my precious ladies needed a more glamorous, palatial space. I found myself sketching again....

and I found myself sawing and drilling and wrestling hardware cloth again.

Coop #4 was bright and spacious, 

with a 12' x 5' covered run and a big picture window.   A few months later, I added an 8'X8' back room.  This was it. This was perfect. I was done. Ta-da! 

But still, coops kept on happening. 

I don't even know why I built this little thing.  

Lucy does love to get herself wedged into the front porch, though, and Daisy once laid an egg inside.
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Two years ago, when that freak October snowstorm hit New England, an oak tree crushed the little red coop I had built with Pigeon. 

No chickens were harmed, as it was still vacant.  But my confidence was absolutely crushed. From that night on, I lay awake wondering if my ladies were safe, or if they'd be the next victims of a plummeting tree limb. 

I wished I'd built my coops out of two by fours instead of toothpicks.

This spring I took the plunge and sprang for a solid prefab structure.   

It was a rather ugly 6X8 shed made of two by fours and pine planks -- but it was a structure that could stand up to the perils of an oak forest.

As soon as it was plunked down into the yard, I revved up the ol' saber saw and extracted that tiny front window.  No tiny windows for my gals.  They like lots of light and air and a good view.  I cut three more huge windows on the south and west sides, too. 

I added a nest box, then built the ladies a 16' X 6' covered run, filled with roosts and logs and feeding stations.  

Meet Coop #5!

Now there was room for the three older gals as well as my four new nuggets. 

....and of course I can always add on.

The new coop was complete. The ladies were thrilled. I was done.  
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But the nuggets, having moved from my living room into a cage on the back porch, were homeless. They needed a bigger space, but they also needed another month or two to grow - in size and in smarts - before I tossed them into the big coop with those scary old ladies. 

I fought the urge to drag out the tools, but then I met a neighbor who had some nice windows to sell for $5 each. 
They were really nice windows.
I bought one. 

I designed a little coop around it, 
made with scraps from coops gone by.

Introducing Coop #6!

Daisy approved.

I put the little ladies inside, showed them where to roost, and locked them up for the night.  

The four little pullets slept in a piggie-pile in the corner. 

The next night: 

They still didn't figure it out. 

Night three: 

they discovered the roost.

Night four: 

Well done, little ladies!

Was I done?  
Almost.

I turned their little coop into a chicken-tractor with a sidecar.  

Am I done now? 
Yes.

...til my power tools recharge.

Lucy: Gotta Have a Baby!

...continued from previous post: SCANNING THE SKIES

Lucy survived Marek's Disease and began to regain the use of her legs, although it took a lot out of her.  She remained very weak, and she slept a lot.  While she was living in the dog crate on the porch, we really enjoyed her company.  She was always up for a good chat on a summer evening.

But  when I put Lucy out with the girls, Lil'White continued to go after her like a crazed assassin.  

Since Lucy couldn't get far on those sad twisted feet, I fashioned her a little pen to keep her safe from vicious predators while she was out in the yard.

That pen turned out to be the best little invention. I made a couple more of them, which I could toss over the gals whenever I had to run inside to take a flaming pot off the stove.

Here Hatsy attempts to peck my eye out from the pen she's sharing with Lucy. 

I don't worry too much about foxes and coyotes because Marky is always in the yard and he diligently patrols the perimeter of his 1.3 acres. 

He loves his job.

He does not love the chickens.

But that's another story.

Lucy really missed living with the girls.   So when I built her little special-needs coop I made sure she had a view of the big coop, even from her nestbox.

  

 

Here's the mini-coop from the back.  Lots of doors so I could reach Lucy in case she needed me.

Lucy settled into her new digs okay.  

Hatsy liked to come over for visits, and sometimes she had a sleepover at Lucy's.

Now and then Lucy came back to our house for a little visit.

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Last summer, sometime in May, Lucy went broody.

She wanted a baby.

It was a hormonal thing.

It was unmistakable and it was fascinating.

She sat in the nestbox all day, except when I lifted her out and shut the door so she couldn't get back in.    She  was  all puffed up like a speckled balloon.  And she started chanting,  "budup     budup     budup     budup ..."    nonstop--  all day, all night. 

If we had a rooster, Lucy would have had a clutch of fertile eggs to sit on. But we had no rooster.   

budup.

Observing Lucy in her broodiness reminded me of how I felt when I was about 30 and suddenly really really really wanted to start a family.

So I called up my friend Trish, whose hens happen to have a lovely little rooster.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  next blog entry:   BROODY LUCY