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September 12, 2021: The Chicken Coop Blues

If I was a musician, I’d have a grand time writing a song with the above title. But I am not. I am not able to compose tunes in my head, and the ones that I bring to mind are very, very simple. So a single dispatch is going to have to suffice.

Today, we partially rebuilt the chicken coop. Bad timing, Pete should have started this yesterday, early instead of going at it at 11 a.m. this morning. He ended up working on it until 10 p.m. This made for a very long day. And the job is still not complete.

I was primarily the construction grunt. I picked up discarded pieces of wood, chicken wire, nails, and whatnot, and made sure the construction area was free of things that one might stumble over. I also dealt with the displaced and totally disgruntled animals. I put the chickens in the pen that Buckwheat the goat used to occupy, and I put the goats out in the yard. The dogs spent a bit too much time in the house – when they were out, I kept a close eye on Ryder who was keeping a close eye on the chickens.

Mixed media chicken coop

Pete does not involve me in the construction process for two reasons: First, he is always in a hurry. And secondly, problem solving is a single-minded endeavor. So I spent the majority of my time cleaning the chicken pen and goat yard.

Pete raised the front wall of the coop by lifting the rafters and adding an addition. Now I’ll be able to clean the pen without having to make my shoulders and back into an L shape. For this, I am grateful.

I did pull the old chicken wire off of the sides of the coup. This IS my least favorite construction type job. I hate chicken wire, which has nothing at all going for it. It is the most vile stuff ever created by MAN. I mean, a man had to have come up with it. No woman in her right mind would invent such a thing. It wads up, snags on clothing, and is difficult to compress after removal. The world would be a much better place if guns and chicken wire were made illegal.

I thought that I’d be done cleaning the chicken pen in five minutes. This was because I had been consistent in cleaning it over the past fifteen years. It took me closer to an hour-and-a-half to get the job done. Yeech – I filled a dozen five-gallon buckets with the crap that was on the ground. It was damp because the roof had been leaking. I felt good after, as I always do when I finish cleaning up after the livestock.

We finished late, in fact, we ended up eating after 10 p.m. Pete was tired and grumpy. I, less so. When I told him that this was another thing off the list he grunted. Undoubtedly, he was thinking that for every one thing he gets done, I add three more. There may be some truth to this.


Next: 253. 9/13/21: Build it and they will Come

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