Annie and I were trying to figure out how long ago the chickens were attacked by the raccoons. Yes, there is a point to this mental exercise, but in typical fashion, I will wait until the end to provide it...

Ultimately, after discussing various events that have happened to us in that space in time, we realized that it has been over two and a half years. Lila Bird lived with us (i.e. in our house) for at least four months while she healed, and disgustingly pecked off her flesh that was hanging off her body after being carved alive. I think it might have been closer to six months...

At any rate, the trauma of the ordeal left her incapable of providing eggs. My threats of turning her into a stew chicken did not help things, I guess. However, I had come to grips with the fact that she had become my parrot, and was not going to lay eggs again. She is the coolest chicken we have ever had, though. She still talks to me when she sees me. In fact, she can see me sitting on the deck punching on the computer from the coop pen, and talks to me from there. Our new rooster seems to have a problem with that, as he has a tendency to step up to her, stretch out, flap his wings, and crow when she does that.

So, after all she has been through... the struggle of having her muscle carved from her body by sharp claws... having other chickens attack her because she looked more like food then a chicken after that... living in a box (ok, that's not accurate given that she had become a pet that walked around getting fed from Annie's hand and perched on my chair, but still)... Lila Bird surprised us today.

Lila Bird blessed us with two blue-green eggs (she is an Aracauna). I am constantly amazed with Nature's ability to adapt and deal... I suspect we could all have something to learn from that should we ever move past our self-proclaimed authority over life on this planet...

Bowing to the order of life...

The Chickdominium is essentially finished! Which means it is time to move on to the next project. I actually have one more thing to do, but I ran out of daylight. The top of the nestboxes is flat, and one of the chickens thinks it is a good place to roost. Consequently, it is currently covered in poop. I've decided that we will fix that when we clean the coop next.

The Chickdominium has no equal… We may be moving in there…

Pleased, and ready to start cleaning the garden...

Merry Christmas!

This should be the second to last post regarding the Chickdominium. We have made great progress, and on Christmas Eve, the chickens moved in to their new abode. They do not have a pen, but it has been so cold and rainy, we figured they would appreciate a more cozy, rat-free environment now, rather than later. I have continued to spend my days working on the coop in Annie's absence. Everything seems to take me longer than it should, but we now have gutters, acrylic windows (completed before we moved the chickens), and the poop deck for the chickens to strut across on their way to the new pen.



I chose the acrylic windows so that they could get heat and light during the winter. I know... it is just a chicken coop, and they are spoiled. However, I thought this would help extend their laying time through the winter, and I do not want them to freeze when the temperature drops below freezing as it has in the past couple of weeks. As proof of their comfort in the new coop, we have had five eggs. I thought that the transition would upset them too much to lay, but there you go.

The storage area has turned out really well.



We can store two bales of straw in the straw bin (lower left). The feed bin (also lower left, but... er... lower) can hold 100 pounds of feed and about 15 pounds of oyster shells. On the lower right is an access panel to the waterer so we can clean it when necessary. The large cooler on the right stores the water. I plumbed it so that we can plug in a hose on the outside of the coop, open a valve, and fill the cooler. The cooler then gravity feeds water to the trough, which has a float valve to shut it off at the right level. I had a similar system before, but had to carry buckets all the time. This will be easier, and of course the cooler is twice as large as the bucket that I had in the old coop.

There are two access panels that stretch clear across above the food and water areas. These are to provide access to the nest boxes without having to walk in to the poop area of the coop. Granted, Annie loves to go in to the coop, and I understand why. Frankly, it is rather soothing to listen to the chickens when they are comfortable and happy. I walked in today and Lila Bird immediately 'assumed the position.' Originally, I found this endearing. After my friend Bruce told me that it meant that she expected me to mount her, it began to sicken me. At any rate, the chickens clucked contentedly while I looked around at how they were doing in the coop.



They have adapted beautifully. Lila Bird and Mickey both perch on the roosts mounted on the right. Mickey prefers the high bar. Unfortunately, Minnie likes to roost on top of the nest boxes, which are now covered in crap. I may need to build something to deter her from that activity...

At any rate, the coop is looking beautiful. I know it is much more than is necessary, but it has taught me a lot, and I like it... So, bite me.


Crowing...

I have forgotten how many times I have written about the chicken coop, but I have had several requests for updates. Well, we are making progress. We continue to make mistakes given the temperature and the fact that we have to often do our work in the dark given the loss of day-light-savings. That said, I am pretty pleased at what we have accomplished. Annie and I hope to move the chickens into the new coop by Christmas day. We have been challenged every step of the way! We were painting the walls during the cold snap, which resulted in me walking around with a flashlight and a paintbrush fixing the runs that happened because of the temperature. At any rate, here is a picture we took a couple of weeks ago.



We had put up the siding and roofing... actually, I had put up the roofing and siding because Annie was gone that weekend, or doing homework. I scared the crap out of myself when I almost fell off the tall side of the coop. I would assuredly broke my leg...

We have continued working when we could find time, and with the storms coming, I have been fairly aggressive on making progress. I finished the shingles last night at dark to fend off the rain expected last night, and woke up this morning to my surprise to find sunny skies. I foolishly decided I could get the trim pieces for the casing and get it in before the rain started again. While I was cutting the last pieces, it started raining. God has it in for me. Nevertheless, I managed to get it together well enough to finish. I will probably wake up tomorrow to see that the coop looks like it was crying given that it has been so cold that the pain hasn't completely dried, let alone cured. I tried, though, and I think it looks beautiful.



Of course, it looks better in the dark!



Do I really have muscles there? Why do they hurt so much?

My neighbor calls our chicken coop building endeavor the 'ChickDominium.' I thought I would offer some pictures of how we have progressed. I know. It is just a chicken coop. However, it has been a good vehicle for figuring out what my capabilities are. I am fairly pleased, but realize this could not be a career option if I am part of the 6,000 people being let go from my company.

The walls are as straight and plumb as crappy, twisted lumber would allow, and I am not displeased. The chickens are always watching us work, and offering suggestions for amenities. However, they are not going to have a hot tub, nor are they going to have a worm-dispensing machine.

I hope we are able to finish the outside before the rains begin…

Master of the ChickDominium...

The diminishing daylight hours have not made it easy, but Annie and I are making progress on the chicken coop. Last weekend we finished assembling the timber for the foundation super structure. We leveled all the beams, mounted the front and back 2x8s, and it was beautiful. She checked the level many, many times. The center beam has a bow, and she kept going back to it with a shake of her head, telling me that it was not level. I picked up a bunch of pre-mixed concrete last Tuesday, and we mixed and filled half the concrete tubes until it got dark. We poured a half-ton of concrete. We finished our last tube with the headlights from the truck. The next day I finished the work, taking breaks from work for 20 minutes at a time. I was a sweaty nightmare, but I did not let anything from work slip. The end result was this beautiful picture of almost one ton of concrete in the piers. I know that they are not all centered but before you say anything, you can go screw yourself!



No, it is not crooked, it is just the way I took the picture. Annie was at her mother's when I did the next step. I put in the crossmembers to help support the floor. It came out ok, but I have some concerns.




I was careful to take the picture such that you can not see where I made mistakes. That is the art and craft of carpentry. It does not have to be perfect. Everything can be fixed. Yes, I know that the picture shows how out of alignment the right most pier is with the post, but it will be ok. Don't argue with me!

Today, I put the sub-floor on the structure. Holy crap. 4x8 tongue-in-groove plywood is not meant to be installed by a single person. I aligned and whacked as much as I could, but could not get the pieces to fit together. I was only off by a little more than an eighth of an inch, but it added up. I just abandoned the fitting on the last piece and turned it around. My neck hurts from balancing the pieces, and I am fine with the results. I can smooth it out later.



I have made the drawings for the walls, and am quite comfortable with constructing those. I do not know what I will do with the roof, though. I drew it, but am unsure how I will build it. Maybe Annie knows...

Turtle, not the Hare...

When I got home from the lab today, I pulled in to the driveway, and realized I could not remember letting Tolkien out this morning. He had been very good from all I can tell, but he had been in the house since last night. He came out and urinated immediately. I went to the dog food can, extracted the food quantity, and fed the famished dog.

I retreated to the deck to do work stuff, and Tolkien ventured to the garage to munch on his bone. He decided to go down and rest in the dirt under the deck. He walked past the end of the steps, and I heard a noise coming from near the dog food can. It sounded like a gas line had just sprung a leak, but there is no line there. I suddenly realized what it was, and walked to the edge of the deck to look down. A timber rattler was coiled up on the ground. I tried to take a picture, but was unwilling to get close enough for it to come out. He was ticked enough at my approach...



Sorry that the pixelation is bad, but I wasn't willing to get any closer. He was ticked enough at my proximity and the flash. He informed me with is beautiful rattle. I do not CURRENTLY own a gun, so I went next door. Connie found the rifle, and some bullets. It was a weird angle, but I hit it on the first shot. Granted, I did not hit it exactly where I was aiming, but I shot it right through the body, and the poor thing was in serious pain. It started moving to security under the deck, and I could not let it go. Sorry, but I do not need a rattlesnake feeling comfortable in my yard near my deck. I grabbed the shovel, moved the dog food can, and moved the poor snake into a position to end its pain. It tried to bite the shovel, but seconds later, its head came away from its neck.

It continued to try to bite for five minutes. The body continued writhing for an hour or more. It was a beautiful specimen of nature, and I hated to see it go...



I plan on treating with respect. It will be gutted, and the skin and rattle will be placed in a state of honor. Much to Annie's dismay, I will be eating the meat. I looked up how to cook it, and it supposedly tastes... you guessed it... like chicken.
Serpentine...

Ever since I mowed a lawn for $5.00 (split two ways) and had yellow-jackets come after me with a vengeance, I have hated the creatures. I had about 50 stings/bites. If I had been allergic, I'd be dead. I learned from the experience, though. In fact, I have learned from many encounters with wasps and hornets: don't run. Stay calm. The last time I found a nest of yellow-jackets, I walked up with a can of spray, and loaded the nest with it. They swarmed all around me, and I just stayed still. When it was possible, I got a shovel, and closed their access. I never got stung.

This time I was not so lucky. A few weeks ago, I noticed an increase in yellow-jacket activity. I finally found where they were building the nest: in one of my deck stairs. I sprayed through the access point, and the activity diminished. However, a week later it was back. I tried it again. Same thing. Today, I decided it was time to take the tread off the stair and be done with it. Annie was inside. It would have gone better if the screws were not so old, and the heads were not so bad. I removed the screws I could with no problem. They did not seem to even notice. Then I brought out the drill bits to remove the heads from the bad screws, which accounted for about half of them. I wrenched up the tread, and they went nuts. I stayed calm, but it was apparently not sufficient given their state of agitation.

The one that stung my arm was so adamant about it that he could not get his butt off my arm. I watched for microseconds as he kept drilling into me before I flipped him with hopefully enough force to end his life. I went still again. A minute later, I felt something under my shirt sleeve. I forgot my training, and thought that if I hit it fast enough, it would not get me. Of course, I was wrong. That one smarts like crazy. In fact, I may have missed him. Ten minutes later, my sister called right when I felt something moving under my shirt again. The freakin' thing was apparently enjoying my armpit. I lifted my shirt and stayed in a zen-like state. I didn't see him go, but he apparently left.

I sprayed the nest, and watched very irritated yellow-jackets struggle for life with no remorse. Freakin' bastards. The nest was big enough that I could not get it out without pulling the other tread off. That was impossible given the state of the screws, so I cut it in half. Once I decided it was safe, I showed it to Annie, who thought it was amazing. She is absolutely my girl. Without concern, she started asking questions about how we would raise honeybees, which we had discussed in the past. God, I love that little girl.

At any rate, the nest is gone. I am going to wait until tomorrow to put the tread back to lengthen the time that it looks like an undesirable place to set up a home. Yellow-jackets are the devil. They serve no purpose in nature. Even if you tell me that they secrete an enzyme that could cure cancer, I think I would still feel the same way. They are aggressive, and damn it, they hurt like hell. Kill them all, but save the honey-bees!

Ow, ow, ow...

What am I supposed to do? I do not want a pet chicken, but she is insidious in her attempts to make herself part of the integral family. The other chickens have never had a problem with being in the coop away from us. Lila Bird apparently is really liking this arrangement. She has one more week, and then she either gets killed by the other chickens, or starts kicking some butt. Here are some pictures where she is making her play for household pet. Granted, she does not comment on her poop control...

Carnivore... she needs to know...

While writing my last post, I witnessed an interesting conflict in nature. Don't get all weird, but we have rats. When you live in a rural area, you get rats and mice. Deal with it. I was unaware that one was living in proximity to where Tolkien eats, but apparently it is so. I just fed Tolkien, and while he was essentially uninterested, the other animals (squirrels, birds, and apparently a rat) were very appreciative. I have been watching a squirrel run up to the bowl, grab a piece of food, and run three feet away to eat it. Have you ever noticed that squirrels do not go anywhere slowly? I think they invented 'hurry up and wait.'

Anyway, he has scrapped with the resident rat several times. The rat runs out and tries to jump the squirrel, who twists in typical squirrel-acrobatic style, and eludes the attacker. Rats are psychic unfortunately. The little ass saw me standing up here watching him, and realized that I was wondering if I had any rat poison left, and further calculating if I could grab the shovel leaning on the deck before he could get away. He decided that the odds might not be sufficiently in his favor, and went back to wherever he has made his home.

His or her time will come...
Anti-Rodent...