The Chicken Coop

The reason I find the ongoing saga of the chicken coop so hilarious is that Mack, when he sets his mind to something, is all about that thing, and he tends to finish what he starts.  He’s like a force of nature whirling through the landscape.  For instance, the porch.  One day, he told me he was going out to stain the porch and a week and a half later, it was roofed in.

So, for the chicken coop to remain incomplete for as long as it’s remained incomplete, you know it’s got to mean that two ideas weigh equally heavy on Mack’s mind.  His desire for chickens is counterbalanced by his desire to not bring coyotes that close to his house.

I, too, am balanced by two competing desires.  I would like to see the chicken coop complete, if only so that I can go to his house and see chickens (I’m hoping he can be convinced to raise some cool variety like the Wyanodette or the Iowa Blue).  But I also like seeing it incomplete, because it tickles me to see it there like a testament to a decisive man’s indecision.

So, I have been “aiding” in the decision making process by suggesting alternatives–getting a sabretooth tiger to guard the flock, getting a billy goat to guard the flock, teaching the chickens how to handle a gun–you know, helpful ideas.

In that spirit, I bring you this solution.

11 thoughts on “The Chicken Coop

  1. That is cute.

    On a more serious note, I know that many farmers have a donkey or a llama to protect their sheep from coyotes. One of my coworkers has a llama, and apparently he’s very attached to and protective of the sheep. Do you think that would work with chickens?

  2. I saw a photo of a chicken coop on wheels that the farmer would tow all around the yard so the chickens could fertilize the whole place. That would be awesome – and it had a cover so the chickens would be save from the coyotes.

  3. Since we cannot teach chickens to handle weaponry (shotguns are too big and they can’t pass the handgun certification requirements because of their eyesight), I also vote for a Pyrenees. My aunt used to breed them strictly for goat and sheep farmers (and insist that their owners have them fixed, yay rah) and they are most excellent and pleasant workers. They also had the welcome side effect of keeping the dogs and other unwelcome varmints away from my cousin’s fighting roosters on his adjoining acreage. (Although we did not mind if something had gotten the roosters, except for the suffering factor of the birds. Actually, we would have preferred if something had gotten hold of my cousin and dragged him around the acreage by the kneecaps of an evening or two to wisen him up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

    My aunt no longer breeds Pyrenees, but I’m sure she can refer you to some good local breeders. I think the only problem Don Coyote might have is that those dogs are very friendly and really do need people to bond with, too. And if he and his lady and the Most Excellent Offspring are not up at The Gentleman Farmer’s Acreage all the time, the dog might be awfully lonely. And it might get to hanging out with a coyote and clocking in and out just for company.

  4. Grandfille, you are edging out NM as my favorite internet crush.

    I have a great guard dog…the idea is not to make him have to defend against coyotes in the first place. Right now, even with goats and cats, the predators keep a respectful distance…I hate to tempt them with a chicken dinner…

    I never leave the farm, though, in fact, my dogs kinda get sick of me. :(

  5. Oh my god. Could you imagine if the raccoons got hold of the chickens’ guns? It’d be a shoot-out at the Coyote Corral for sure.

  6. But wouldn’t the raccoons try to wash the guns before they did anythinig else? You couldn’t have too much of a shootout after that.

  7. Okay, I just got a mental image of a rooster waving a derringer and telling a raccoon “I’m your huckleberry” and just lost it, right here in my office. Y’all are killing me. *Killing* me!

    And Don Coyote, sir (curtseys respectfully), I apologize for my misunderstanding. I thought you all were weekend farmers, which would explain my presumption about the lonely guard dog. Instead, you all are living La Vida de la Granja full-time! I honor you.

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