Chickens all around the world will be green with envy when they spot this blue and yellow chicken house on stumps. Thanks to our fantastic neighbours, family and friends, the roof finally went on with much shoving and pushing. Despite the fact that we had to unexpectedly chainsaw a large overhanging tree, the house went into place quite readily.
In fact, it looks like it’s always been there nestled under the trees. It was commented that it looked like a gingerbread house in the woods; someone else said we should decorate it for Christmas – no, let’s keep it simple, please.
If you are interested in Christmas thoughts and musings may I recommend
and his marvellous writings on the subject along with thoughts of gardens, life, community and simplicity.
We have really lost the simple pleasures of life. Indeed this little house has given us so much delight in its rustic existence; in its basic tin-tacks symbolism of a simpler time. I know that it will house chickens and that in fact it is quite grand for that purpose but it has been salvaged and given a second life – isn’t that what recycling is all about? In fact, just today I bumped into the little house’s previous owner and proclaimed its salvation. She was so pleased that she told me it had actually been their cubby house when they were little kids. They would bring their dolls and tea sets and play for hours on its blue wooden floor. Such simple pleasures remembered and revered and now, hopefully, preserved. I hope kids today still do this – perhaps they do it in a virtual world. I hope they can balance these two worlds; I hope they can sit on earth, on grass, on leaves and feel the textures and look at the sky and imagine themselves as important and have picnics, real or imaginary. That’s what life is really about, I think – simple tasks, simple times.
Now that the door is on, all it needs is a little coat of paint. My next post will be from the sub- tropics as I visit family and friends – watch out for frangipanis, my own childhood memories and the house in which I grew up. Here is today’s back yard deck view. Ciao.
I thought I was seeing things this morning. We were sure we had locked up all the chickens yesterday afternoon. We do have a renegade brown hen, she is always late and always the last to go in. So why could I hear her outside the kitchen window and why was she on the back deck at 9 o’clock? At this point I raced out to check on the others. Miss brown chicken eagerly followed me. She went in. A quick check confirmed that all the others were present. On returning back upstairs something caught my eye. Was that two brown eggs nestled on the stoney landing just under the kitchen window?
That means she had escaped twice – chicken Houdini! It seems that the construction of the new chicken house had dislodged some of the netting and she simply jumped up onto the 6′ fence and out!
Two friends on the back deck.
The whole gang out today.
This evening’s back deck view – 19’C down to 6’C at night – still cool.
As we continue to feel sorry for our Pecker, the Plymouth Rock rooster, we have plunged ourselves into working on the new chicken house. For many years we admired our neighbour’s little cubby which was built for their young daughters’ guinea pigs. His girls are now in their twenties and the house now has a new owner with new ideas for his garden. It was with much delight that we were informed that he no longer wanted the little house.
A working team was assembled to remove and reconstruct.
While the workers dismantled, it was clear that somebody – me – needed to provide food for these hungry builders. The day called for a hearty spinach lasagne, a large salad and perhaps a crisp white wine. The weather is warming up quite nicely but it is still cool enough at night for a substantial meal.
Now we have the walls and floor stacked up like dominoes and the tin roof nestled under the lilac tree. The remaining chickens scratch and scrape round it and this afternoon’s view from the back deck summons us to dinner after a hectic day’s work.
First thing this morning we checked on Pecker, picked him up and took him into the garden; sat with him and gave him his medication. His comb was still a little blue. There was a little shiver. We returned him back to the rabbit hutch; he stood up, looked around; his gurgling seemed a little less intense. I could see him from the kitchen while I prepared breakfast. We kept the lid open so he could look out. I even thought he seemed at ease listening to the morning household noises.
It was unusual to have rooster looking at me in the kitchen. The cats wandered around, quite in their own world. Remembering the vet’s instructions, we left him quietly and went about the day’s chores. We also had to go to the airport too pick up our daughter. In all, we were happy that he was standing; was comfortable and warm – he eve began to peck at some food and began making some faint crowing noises. He would sleep until we returned and then we would take him back into the garden for another look around.
Poor Pecker was not to see his beloved garden again. Poor Pecker didn’t make it – he left us while we were gone. I began to cry. Colin wrapped him up in the red blanket which had kept him so warm two nights ago. He found an old disused worm-farm box and gently placed him in it. He buried him at the bottom of the garden near the purple irises.
He was the friendliest rooster – enjoy the garden, Pecker. Our backyard view today is basked in sunshine. It is a tribute to all the pets who bring sunshine into our lives; who love us unreservedly; who make our lives rich by their constant companionship.
Poor Pecker the Plymouth Rock rooster is very sick. After consulting the vet – he was such a calm and cooperative boy, she informed us that he had a trachea virus which may or may not have reached his lungs. We had done the right thing and kept him isolated and warm over night. She gave him antibiotics and instructed us to administer the liquid twice a day for five days and to let her know if he was not much better in three days.
He is still resting in his hutch in the laundry. I hope he returns to his healthy self.
Meanwhile, we have been offered a new chicken house from our next door neighbour. It is painted duck egg blue with windows and a gabled roof. Colin, with the help of his dad and uncle and anyone else who was about spent the day dismantling it.
Fingers crossed for Pecker! Enjoy today’s back deck evening view. Take care.
Pecker the Plymouth Rock is sick. When we let all the chickens out this afternoon for a quick run, he didn’t sound too good. His breathing was “gurgling” and he did not seem his sprightly self.
Just lately he has allowed us to pick him up and give him a quick cuddle and a pat. He walks beside us in the garden and has become very friendly, especially since we returned from Italy.
We did a little bit of research and after phoning the vet – I’ve never taken a rooster to the veterinarian – we found out that roosters can get chest infections. Luckily for him, Colin had begun to bring over the rabbit hutch which we have inherited from our new neighbour, so we thought, poor Pecker, you know what, the night time temperature will drop to around 5 degrees C so let’s bring him into the house for the night!
Pecker had a good night. He is still “gurgling” but he was warm – now it’s off to the vet.