Friday, May 21, 2010
This is our Pasture pen we have for my chickens. I call it the "Fort Knox coop" since nothing can really get into it. We have had 80 mile tornado winds here and it barily touched it. Once in a while we have to put new tin on the roof or sides but its been pretty handy these last few yrs.
Hubby had taken a welding class one year so he put his knowledge to good use by making our coop. If you notice it has skits on the bottom which makes it easier for us to move with our tractor all around the field which in turns gives the chickens more access to food plus fertlizes our field.
This is a story I had long ago I thought I would repost again.
2002-12-18 - 12:05 a.m.
"If you don't learn to laugh at troubles, you won't have anything to laugh at when you grow old." -Edward W. Howe
I am looking at them waiting for them to make a move. These little teenage rebellions, they pretend like I they don’t see me. I know they watch me with their beady little eyes. They go about there business. I once again make sure everything is secure. I have raised them since they were baby’s you would think I would get more respect then this, slaughter to my belongings. It’s my fault I know I kept them shelter close to me for a long time. Not wanting them to venture out to far incase of danger. Now I am paying the ultimate price. They wont go away!
I head back inside the house and watch them make their move, trying each single entry, testing it, going back and forth. They retreat I sigh. This one battle is won but not for long I just know they will find an entry into my yard. No I am not talking about human teenagers I am talking about my teenage chickens. “The locust” as I call them now.
One hundred and twenty of them to be exact, we raised them since chicks in our garage then they got to big and the chicken coop not yet built I put them in a cage in our front yard and moved them about the yard daily. They ate everything in their path; even with the chicken food we gave them they still craved for the fresh grass growing. My grass, the grass I planted over two years ago to try to keep the dust and stickers out of my house to make the place look more livable. Finally I gave up and just let them wonder about the yard. The chicken coop was still not built. What is that saying, “Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched”
Garden time is coming soon, and I am tired of stepping on there little calling cards each day on my front porch, determined I stuff them in the smaller chicken coop. It takes us three days of throwing them over the fence each night and chasing them to get used to the idea this is there new home. Yet still they try to come into my yard. Their young minds remember this was a safe and plentiful haven for them.
It took me a few paydays to buy enough chicken wire fences to put under my fence. Instead they flew over. I put more wire on top and grabbed them and started trimming their wings. They started looking for little holes under the wire to get through. Each day is a constant battle with my little teenage hellions. This morning I woke up to see 4 of them in my netted tomato plants eating most the lower tomatoes. I love my young chickens. Someday they will pay for themselves well by providing eggs for me to sell. They will be too fat to try to fly over the fence. Till then I really wish my youngsters would leave the nest.