The one specific thing I was a little afraid the wind would do, the wind did. When the wind gets strong across Landlady’s ridgetop, it blows directly against the front door of the Big Chickenhouse. The door is cheap pressboard and is only held closed by a bolt latch. It has blown open before – and it blew open sometime yesterday afternoon.
I wasn’t afraid that the chickens would wander outside – in that sense, they pretty much know what’s good for them. They’re afraid of that door. I was afraid something from outside would come inside, and do bad things.
So imagine my concern when I counted heads and could only find six chickens huddling in the farthest corner. Not good – there should have been nine traumatized hens. Hmm.
Fortunately, they had an alternative.
Two halves of an old dog crate are out in their seldom-used yard, for just in case they feel a need for shelter away from the chickenhouse. There were no tracks in the snow at all, but it was still possible my missing hens had forted up in there.
And so it proved to be. They seemed fine, but showed no inclination to leave. It’s surprisingly cold for all this snow, but not so cold I need to worry about physical damage to Rhode Island Reds. So I filled the chickenhouse bowl, and when the sound of that didn’t draw the three outsiders back inside I left them there and gave them some sunflower seeds. It won’t kill them to stay in the shelters till the sun comes out, which I’m told is still on the schedule for later today.
I’ll check on them later. It seems ironic to me that I’m so concerned about their welfare when I was talking about slaughtering them just yesterday. But while they’re alive, they’re my responsibility.
Usually when the door bolt breaks it tears through the cheap material of the frame. But in this case the door itself came apart. That’ll be easier to fix, really.
Little Bear says “More snow, please.” But it has already nearly stopped, and the sky’s getting brighter.
LB’s starting to go gray at the muzzle. He’ll turn nine in less than a month. Heh – I’ll turn 64 in less than 2. In dog years he’s nearly as old as me, but I went gray a long time ago.
I had to go into the Lair’s chickenyard and beat the snow off the camo netting, which led to the usual result…
But I can dress for it these days.
Now, Earl Grey and a good book.
That door needs a firm place on your to-do list.
Instead of repairing the door, if it is possible, wouldn’t it be worth spending the time to relocate the door on the downwind side, and closing up the existing door opening? If there’s budget for a pre-hung door with your skills it could be a quick job that would permanently resolve your wind issues and the chicken’s terror.
If we keep using that building for this purpose, I’ll need to do something about that door which is really reaching the end. But I’m not sure we’ll need it soon. Landlady wants out of the chicken business, for which I can hardly blame her given all the many benefits it has never brought her since (she got us into this mess in) 2012. I’m going to look into the possibility of hatching my own eggs this coming spring, but I’m really not sure if it’s practical so I might be out of the business as well. Even if I continue, I don’t know if I’ll need the Big Chickenhouse. So several chicken-related things are up in the air at present, and the door is not a very high priority.
Joel – doesn’t the local feed store/Tractor Supply/Atwoods/grain elevator have chicks in the spring? Most have chicks with the marked/clipped wings. You go to town once a week, so it would be easy to check to see if they have chicks in yet. That’s the way I got poults when I needed new hens. We picked up ducklings, goslings, keets and turkey chicks, too. Don’t take your children chick shopping or you get to bring home all sorts of babies. ;>)
Judy, the local feed store does sporadically have chicks. Since I only get to town weekly and can’t pick my time, I’ve sometimes missed out on that but I did buy chicks from them one time, 2-3 years ago. Until then I was not aware that it was possible to buy defective chickens. They had high early mortality, sometimes bizarre behavioral problems, and most important not one ever laid a single solid egg. They didn’t even grow well enough to save for stew meat.
We had the best luck with ours. Wonder what the difference was between the Kansas chicks and the Arizona chicks?