The chicken coop is really a two-story house for the birds with a little ladder that gets them to and from the top, where they sleep and lay their eggs. Well, in a perfect world it is where they lay their eggs. The Husband built a nice platform for the coop, so that no little grubbing raccoons or other predators could dig their way in and kill my chickens. (Yes, I realize I have become possessive about the chickens. Read on.) And the chickens are very good about going up into their “bedroom” when it comes nightfall. Nightfall as they define it. I learned the hard way, after chasing chickens and attempting to herd chickens into their coop, that they will go into the coop when they are good and ready. And not one minute before.
When the coop first went up, The Husband concocted a little run for them with some chicken wire and posts. Which was ok for about a day. The dogs soon learned how to dig under the chicken wire and get into the run, and though they didn’t really bother the chickens (ok, Fuego did do some chasing), Rumba ate all the food. To the point that I had to call the vet and get him another prescription for his Phlegm Fat formula so he didn’t balloon out and explode. And, in the meantime, and perhaps because of the dogs, the chickens learned to fly out of the run. Yes, fly out. Whoever thinks chickens are not that smart is either not that smart themselves or has never lived with chickens. Snooki was the instigator, and was the first one to figure out how to get out. Chica followed and a little later Raven figured it out. Easter, the fancy little hen with the feathers on her legs, just clucked inconsolably until someone opened the gate and let her out. So the run became pointless very quickly and the chickens now have the run of the yard during the day. Which leads to its own host of issues.
real-toro 