(Just because I can.)
In the continuing saga that was our chicken babysitting duty, the coop was on the move in 2011.
Well, technically the coop in the woods was turned into a migrant farm workers cabin.
Before –
During –
Yes, that’s a water heater in a tree.
Isn’t that where you keep yours?
After looked something like this.
So while the new workers were sleeping on top of a few years worth of buried chicken poo…. the new feathered residence was born. Although we were happy not to have to hike through snow, ice and frigid temperatures that next year, we were less than thrilled with the Rube Goldberg like design our neighbor put close to the road and right in our line of sight.
Pretty,Β it wasn’t.
A greenhouse for free ranging and an old horse trailer for roosting….
With a box in between for an entrance. Thankfully this incarnation didn’t last long, but it worked for a while.
And we fed the ever expanding flock whenever the farmers were out of town.
The birds didn’t seem to mind the new digs…. and my late mother, who was 88 at the time, always enjoyed visiting the little cluckers. (Please note the double protective head gear. Momma was no fool.)
Required chicken butt photo below.
Because they’re just so….Β fluffy!
And yes, there’s riveting video as well.
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Well, that’s just clucky.
(and if they raised ducks ~> just ducky).
My dad grew up in VT. During WWII, he raised chickens in the basement under the garage for meat and eggs. After the war, he and his dad were no longer fans of chicken for dinner.
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They now have ducks as well, so that works!
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The “temporary” chicken digs look like a migrant camp than the converted coop does.
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It only lasted that one winter… and only had chicken tenants!
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Fill your mind with chickens…. but the lobsters are still in there.. haunting your dreams..
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And maybe my driveway…
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::::blink blink:::::
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