Welcome to my Blog about our Chickens.
In this blog you will likely see me use bad grammar and occasionally bad language. I’ll share my humor about this new venture and likely appall some with my lack of knowledge on raising or keeping chickens. But, hey! You can look at it as a diary on what NOT to do when you decide you want some too.
About Thirty years ago we moved into the country. Right after we got set up enough to say we had a home, I decided I wanted to have chickens.This grand idea lasted a few months. Dare I say, it wasn’t every successful.
One quiet night, a few neighborhood dogs interrupted that grand idea with a mass genocide of all my chickens and rabbits, resulting in my resolution that “I’d never have chickens again”, or at least not until I could make very sure they where totally safe. OK. So no chicken is ever “totally safe”. I wanted to do my best to ensure they would have a good stab at longevity (as far as chickens go).
Finally this many years later we decided to try again. Well, I decided to try again, and my husband just shut up about it and hoped for the best. I hoped his back would survive the demands of making what I’d hoped would be a predator proof pen and coop (I hear chicken farmers everywhere giggling at how naive and green I sound).
Every time he did something in the building process, I promptly changed what he was doing to suit my overprotective idea of what that “safe house” should be. This included how he put on the wire. How he finished the bottom, top and sides. To say I was an overbearing ass, is a fair assumption. The fact that we didn’t divorce over the ongoing chicken enclosure is really amazing in itself.
However, to my defense, briefly… I had brainstormed this thing to pieces for years and I wanted no more Chicken-a-La carte, for the neighborhood. He does not work that way. He’s a “hope for the best” type… (I love that man).