One of the first things we did when we moved here was build a chook house and this had been more or less occupied by chooks, ducks and once even by a free range pig, for the past twenty years. But storage space is at a premium here and the original chookhouse is now full of car engines,gearboxes and assorted mechanical bits and bobs that didn’t have anywhere else to live.
The Spouse absolutely despises poultry and he is always the one to tread in the chook shit thus making his hatred of all things feathered, loudly clear to all within the immediate vicinity. But, “The Spouse” also loves me and I like chickens. I like free range eggs, I like the fact that the girls eat the snails and slaters and I especially like that I have a free range chicken for the pot when I want one.
So to keep the peace, “The Spouse” very, very reluctantly built me a small portable A-Frame shelter for my newest batch of girls, which he didn’t actually know were arriving until the day before we were due to go and pick them up. This A-frame worked wonderfully well until last Christmas when I decided to keep two pigs. Mother hen decided that the pickings were much richer near the pig sty and moved her brood to a native cherry tree next to the pigs sty which only left the old red hen living in the A-frame.
I wasn’t too fussed about Mother hen moving as she wasn’t laying and I thought all her offspring were roosters and as such they were destined for the pot.
Veronica and I were also given some Muscovy ducks and once again I promised The Spouse faithfully that I would remember to lock them up of a night time and as I talked hard and fast about yummy roast duck and golden duck eggs, I could see his eyes glazing over and I knew by the way he noisily stomped off into the distance that everything would be fine.
And so it was, until the ducks squeezed through a tiny space in the fence and took up residence underneath the verandah at the back of the house.
Nothing is ever easy when you are a scatterbrained keeper of totally free range animals.
Six months down the track and the fine batch of roosters have turned into a fine batch of hens. David and I went out one night and by torchlight captured the only rooster and one of the hens and gave them to Veronica.
We went out with our torches the next weekend to capture the rest of the hens and bugger me if they hadn’t moved to a different roost. Damn!
This has left me with two young point of lay girls who are totally wild and a mother hen, who has gone broody and is sitting on a hidden nest somewhere deep within the bracken ferns. A broody hen in the middle of July is very strange. Admittedly the weather has been very warm lately but broody in July? It is the middle of winter you stupid bird.
I will need to wait until she comes out to be fed and then after she has pecked around for what feels like hours and hours, I can follow her to the secret nest and replace her eggs, as these eggs are infertile and she will sit for weeks waiting for them to hatch. This isn’t as easy as it sounds as mother hen is very sneaky and I am easily distracted.
I think the ducks might be laying underneath the house which is a a bit of a problem as well because I gave the drake to Veronica and these eggs are also infertile, as well as inaccessible and my glowing promises of golden duck eggs are sounding a bit hollow.
So, I need to convince “The Spouse” to block off access to the underneath of the back verandah, to keep the ducks out from under the house. This will entail all manner of recriminations from “The Spouse” involving lots of swearing, angry glaring in my general direction, lots and lots of grumbling and threats of dire consequences to all poultry that cross his path.
Then he will block off access to underneath the house. Yay! Or that is the plan as I am sitting here writing and hoping.
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So has he at least gotten a few chicken dinners out of the deal? Some scrambled eggs? I’ve always had a dream of keeping chickens but I imagine the fantasy will always trump the reality.
Do what I do – calmly explain to The Spouse that he’s wasting his energy being upset, he knows how this will go so he may as well skip the next couple of steps and just use that energy in blocking off the underside of the verandah and think how he’s saved himself another ulcer/worry line with the stress he’s ignored 😉
Works with my spouse about 75% of the time lol.
@Kristin, he has managed to eat a couple of eggs before David the human vacuum ate them all. The chicken dinners are another touchy subject because Mr Ponds Rock is the one that kills them so that is a story for another day.
@Jayne That wouldn’t work with my spouse at all. I just confess that the chooks are nesting under the house, ignore the explosions, try to look very contrite and promise faithfully to lock them up every night and then wander off….
Thanks for this, straight to my favourite Sunday read of the day :o)
Good luck with that then Kim!
I did see a permaculture set up on TV where a large portable run was moved from place to place around the garden which may at least focus the poo in useful locations. Might make it easier to round them up at the end of the day too.
hmmm…. well good luck with that,my dear.But if hubby is partial to a cold brewed refreshment….. then maybe a token mini-pack ….may just help your cause…especially as you mentioned it is a “Hot July”
I hope your plans work out, Kim. Old duck eggs under the house doesn’t sound like a good idea at all. What Sharon said about the portable run is a great idea, is your A-frame portable? There’s just the matter of remembering to put the hens inside it……..
Unfortunately I get what I am given with regards to chook houses and whilst the A frame is only small it is bloody heavy. I would absolutely adore a chook run in the middle of my garden and 4-6 rotating garden beds around it. But I have given up and just shoo the ducks into the veggie garden from time to time.
I shouldn’t laugh, I know I shouldn’t….sorry Kim! BG Xx
Oh Kim, a post after my own heart. Brought up with chickens I would adore them and I do think that living in the countryside the neighbours (in our housing association house) should not mind in the slighest if we kept them. Even if that would be in the front! Why I ask myself did they build these houses in the middle of the countryside with such stupid small gardens too small for chickens. You see they would complete my life.
Mr Tensile Times – has a client at present who has become terrified of her own cockerel – no worries he says – the poor man has been attacked by said cockerel and swore a great deal only yesterday. So your husband and mine if they were not so far away could share a beer, and swear away about bloody women and chickens.
You have my heartfelt sympathy Kim. and BG – ditto….
xoxo
Is there any way at all to mount the A-frame on “skids” or wheels? Then The Spouse could push or pull it to different locations for you.
This post brought back memories from my childhood. Loved it!
Beautiful photo… and I love the idea of all the free range chicken and eggs too… sounds worth it to me, and sounds like you know just how to handle that spouse of yours. 😉