Stubs would like to invite you of a tour of the chicken coop! Won't you join us?
You remember Stubs, right? She's toeless thanks to a wicked raccoon. She's the impressionist artist? If you've not met her, click on the archives and read 'Meet Stubs'.
Mother Plumtree! How did you get in here? I told you, wait your turn. She's so anxious to show you her stitchery that she just finished. It's hanging on the wall there. Cross stitched. I think she sat up many a night to finish it in time for you all to see it today. Looked how puffed up she is. So proud. Silly bird.
Here is what the coop looks like from my little brick sidewalk. I used to use that area as a potting area before we built the coop. It was a pretty neglected area, so this is a much better use of the space.
Here's the roost box that we built out of garbage....oh, I mean 'reclaimed' materials. We actually used the potting bench (found in the trash) and a couple of old windows (found in the trash). I'd been saving those windows for 10 years, hoping to one day build a cold frame. A few sheets of plywood that were laying around finished it up.
Aaron actually designed this little roost box for me. He wants to be an architect, so I figured he could do this. He did a great job. See how it opens for easy cleaning? I feel like the girls are pretty safe in there. I have opposable thumbs and sometimes I have a hard time opening the door for them. The coop is 10 x 10, which is supposed to be big enough for 10 birds, but I let them out to free range every day. Do you know what the definition of free range is? Destroy your garden.
Poor Stubs can't roost, so we built her a little small platform to sit up with the other birds since this photo was taken.
Aren't those old hinges cool? That is one thing I love about Glenco. He saves EVERYTHING and he is a scavenger. We see old doors and the like on the side of the road, he'll pull over and yank the hardware off if it's neat, or just take the whole danged door.
The latches on these old windows are what made me fall in love with them. They are old metal windows that we found by the trash in the historical district of Crown Point. I love trash night almost as much as I love bacon.
Here is another prime example of the ingratitude of chickens. Of course I want their little abode to be all cozy, so I planted a nice Hydrangea 'Limelight' for them to enjoy, and sit under. They ate it, and then dug it up for me. Thanks girls.
But I can't stay mad long, when I see the sweet little faces of my girls. What is it about chickens that I adore? Why do I want to hold them and kiss them? Why do I want to dress them and make little rolling pins and teach them to make pies?
Is there a medication for this?