The right wall of the chicken area, approximately 75 feet in length, is complete. Also, a garden shed-turned-coop was dropped off by tractor earlier today, bringing the space one step closer to becoming a full-fledged bird paradise.
It did take two heavy pours of Dawn dish soap in the mop bucket to rid the metal siding of its green and brown scum. Inside, there were cobwebs, a quarter-inch layer of old poop and dust on the floor, and sawdust-packed nooks and crannies. The scent is as you’d expect, powerfully pungent in every way.
I feel accomplished, even though the coop currently sits at a funhouse-like slant thanks to a rotted 2×6 that snapped off. Fingers crossed, the three pieces of lumber we swiped from the back of Dave’s brother’s house next door gives us the support—and levelness—we need.
It’s a big night in our micro-town. Everyone will be headed to the town square for pop-up vendors and live music. Better late than never for celebrating the United States’ 250th birthday, I say.
It’s hot.
How hot? I couldn’t tell you. My body sweats away the entire day. After yard work, I often jump into the pool fully clothed, or if I have a hose in hand, I spray myself down just to make the heat bearable. The heat advisories, complete with skull-and-crossbones graphics on my weather app, have very little influence on how I spend my day.
Thunderstorms, however, are another story.
After last week’s lightning strike that fried our router, sprinkler controller, and hallway light, we take storms seriously. There’s a 100% chance of thunderstorms forecast for 9 p.m., but I’m hoping the weather cooperates because Big Mike and the Booty Papas are playing from 6 to 8. Dave and I love live music, and we’d sure like to get our fill before the skies open up.
Well, it’s getting close to leaving time. One last dinner call, sunscreen, lawn chairs, water, and snacks before we make the three-minute trek into town. Maybe it’ll be a golf cart kind of evening. Or maybe not. Without a windshield, we’re not exactly prepared for an earlier-than-expected downpour.
And before I go, I have to share the ridiculousness that is the chicken-owning community.
These people are diehards. Chicken tattoos. Chicken crossing signs. Taj Mahal coops.
Meanwhile, I’m over here with my budget-friendly flock, hand-me-down coops, and… my baking.
You heard that right. My baking.
Originally, I was planning to make homemade suet for the wild birds with peanut butter, oats, lard, and birdseed. But today I also stumbled across a recipe for chickens.
The caption perfectly sums up the hard-core poultry people I was talking about:
“So, it’s your favourite hen’s birthday, or she just laid her first egg. You want to celebrate by giving her a yummy treat that won’t make her too fat and unhealthy. This easy suet cake recipe is great for your hen’s—or rooster’s—special day!”
I laughed out loud. I hope you have a pleasant evening.
Love, Jaclynn