the scoop on the coop

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We call the chicken’s home the “hoop” thanks to Jonathan who has been mislabeling it since first introduction. My parents brought the hoop down with the chickens and we set it up in the backyard near the tree line. Caleb was out of town that weekend so I had two days to observe the chickens in their new home. And by the time he arrived on Sunday night I’d already compiled a list of modifications.

Oh, and I wasted no time adding a little beautification.

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**I’d like to give credit to my brother Jon for predicting I’d have it decorated before the weekend was out. Apparently I am just that foreseeable** 

Saturday and Sunday morning the girls had turned over their feed trough and spilled all the food during the night. I went out with a flashlight after dark and realized why. They were using the bottom of the trough as a roosting bar. Chickens like to sleep up off the ground so they need an appropriate place to roost at night.

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This is what the inside of the hoop looked like. There are three nesting boxes on each side and no obvious place to roost. Since you only need one nesting box for every 2-3 chickens we decided to remove one side and turn it into a roosting area.

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And to further encourage them to sleep up there we took out the trough feeder and installed one that couldn’t be so easily sat upon.

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After a little research and consulting of the pinterest we settled on a pvc pipe design.

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It has small holes drilled in the back so it can hang securely on the hoop door but still be removed for cleaning.

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The silo holds enough food for a few days. Hopefully that means we can vacation this summer without the chickens going hungry.

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It passes the chicken test.

Guess what?

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Chicken butt!

*snickers*

I keep waiting for it to stop amusing me but hasn’t happened yet. Maturity of a 12-year-old.

Comments

Sarah T. said…
hahahaha chicken butt. I hope I never get so mature that I don't think that is funny.
Anonymous said…
That is genius girl. Those have to be some of the happiest chiks (girls) around! 123 me
Marian Frizzell said…
I totally understand that--the twelve year old sense of humour and how some things never stop being funny. Forwarding this blog post to the other friend of mine who is raising chickens in her back yard. :)