The Chicken Coop Debacle

Most of you know that we've been talking about raising chickens since the houseboat days. With an older than old dog, a rabbit, 5 finches and oodles of guppies on 450 square feet of rocking living space less than a foot from two different rocking living spaces, it just didn't seem like the time. So we sold the boat, bought another boat (different story), and bought a three story victorian apartment conversion. Most would say, it still didn't seem like the time. Not us. So after reading every book in the Camas / Vancouver library system about how to house, raise, butcher, clean and talk to chickens, we're ready. Nevermind that we don't have a chicken coop or a clue, we're ready. The local feed store takes delivery of chickens every Thursday starting around mid April. We knew what kind we wanted, we'd been looking at catalogs for weeks--3 hens: one polish for Bailey, one aracana for me, and one something or other for Hannah. And maybe a rooster (for dad). So one Thursday in April we took the girls after school to look at chicks. The feed store had two kinds--black sex links and barred rocks. Neither were on our list of must have birds. That's a little disappointing. But not to be disauded, we buy one anyway. One of each that is. A couple of days later, Don and I are looking for a garden supply store in Battle Ground and passed a feed store with a hand written sign out front: "Got Chicks." So we stop. They have a few different kinds, including Bantams. The Bantams are so small and fluffy and cute. Just what I was picturing (the first two were definitely not, more birdlike, less cute). How can we resist? So we pick one out and put it in the box. She looked so small and lonely in there. Would the big hens hang out with her? Would she feel left out of the big chicken games? She needed a friend. We had to get two. They are 1/2 size after all, two should count as one. Next stop, the garden store. Of course, the garden store has chickens too. Lots. And I had a plan after all. Not one to forsake my plans easily, I wanted an aracana. Never mind that the plan was for three hens and we already had four, never mind that we still didn't have a place to keep these things, we had to bring home an aracana. Good thing they didn't have a polish or we'd have 6 hens to house on our city lot, not 3 + 2/2. First comes the idea, then the execution, finally the fall out. Where to put the things. First, it was a rubbermade tub; then it was a big box of unknown origins; finally, last weekend, they graduated up to a U-Haul wardrobe box that had been storing our winter coats. They think they are very cool now--room to run, jump, squawk, etc. But its the biggest box we could possibly find, and eventually they'll need things. They are girls after all. Things like roosts and hen boxes and stuff like that. At least, that's what the books say. So I the next step is the chicken coop. Stay tuned!