Back to the chicken. Now, lovely as its coop is, and we are not calling it ‘he’ because we are now considering the possibility that it is female. We were originally assured it was male but the info I have gleaned via the internet implies that it should be full grown by now, and it doesn’t have much of a crest to speak of and no wattle either, so maybe we’ll have eggs, who knows, and be honest who cares?
My point being the wonderful coop Tiktiki and I constructed out of my now unused Little Tykes garden table, that we had so much fun making in our accidentally identical black tank tops and our henna tattoos, the photos of which have failed to be uploaded, turned out it was a total pain in the arse to clean out.
So the old lady who lives up the road, not to be confused with Tanaka san next door who inspired The Tanaka San rule of yesteryear, (see April 2007), but sprightly 70 year old Mrs. N, has taken a real shine to the chicken and has been popping in regularly with food for it, has been concerned about the cleaning out malarkey.
So she turned up today with some fencing and suggested we make
I’ll be honest, having spent the night coughing up my lungs, and the morning back at the hospital being told I probably have fricking asthma, and having to go to work for most of the day, I was not really in the mood to start a rebuilding project, but she is nothing if not persistent.
So a huge executive decision was made to start rebuilding on a little spot of land under the trees, so to have a natural floor, where young chicken can forage for food.
So we erected the frame, and put some wire over the top to protect from the cats and tanukis that invade our garden, but the cleaning and the feeding still had to be considered.
She says, “I’ll go get some wood.’ And trotted back up the steep hill to her house, returning with a weighty piece of trellis, which she secured to the wire and which opens like a trap door.
Much as I loved our first one, I must say, this one is fab, the natural floor, the door contraption, airy, light, easy to access, easy to keep clean.
Meanwhile we also had to clean up the debris from the old one, so lots of soggy egg cartons and chicken shit to go in the compost.
The Little Tykes table had gunk and shit embedded in crevices so I turned the hose onto a straight jet to force it out. It worked, it forced it out and all over my face, in my eyes, in my hair.
Sleep deprived, chicken shit covered, consumptive, very attractive.
The day just gets better and better.
We may have to rethink things come the end of autumn when it turns cold, but for the foreseeable future, this coop is fantastic.
Thank you Mrs. N, I hope for half your energy, half your creativity, and half your get-up-and-go when I am your age.