One Bird Down

So after months of research, I decided on just buying a regular old shed and converting it into a chicken coop by adding a chicken door and ramp, perching bars, and nesting boxes. Voila, Chicken Coop. Just days before the new coop was set to be delivered, I went out to collect the eggs like I usually do and opened the door. Nighty was dead on the floor of the old coop. I told everyone in the home and we were all shocked. My favorite chicken. The sweet chicken that used to let me hold her. My baby chicken I raised in the hall closet. Ganesh went out to investigate. We weren't sure if it was some kind of disease that we should be aware of. There was blood on her head and on the floor a little where here head was touching. No signs of struggle or illness in the coop. We have no idea what happened. After doing some research about perches for the new coop, I found out that they shouldn't be higher than three feet tall because the chickens can injure themselves jumping from a far distance. Nighty was the biggest and the heaviest chicken, maybe that's how she died? Jumped from the perches that were too high in the old coop and just hit her head. Her presence is missed among the chickens and there was a marked decrease in egg production for a few weeks. 

I even wrote a poem inspired by her iridescent black feathers:

I never thought I would pet a chicken
I have petted cats and dogs
a few horses
even a guinea pig 
But the funny thing is
You never know where life takes you
For years you might wander in the abyss
and the clouds part and you have 
the greatest joy flutter drift and land
like down upon your shoulder
the slightest breeze could make it shutter and fall
And then one day you pet a chicken
and I never thought I would pet a chicken
But I did
Fingers sinking silently into light, airy 
feathers

Then we moved the rest of the chickens into the new coop. They seem to like their new home. 



I also have learned to make bread with the help of a new friend. She came over and showed me how to do it and brought a recipe printed out for me. She has been perfecting it for 30 years, making 30 loaves a week for her six kids. I am proud to say, I have not bought bread for over two months, repeating her recipe very well. It's awesome! Her directions make six loaves at a time, you can put them in the freezer and they come out like new. I'm very pleased. 

Then the yaks escaped, sort of. They jumped over a fence to land into another portion of our land. But it was still hard to get them back into their proper place. They can't go over there yet because we have to make sure the fence is secure everywhere. I walked out to where they were with a treat bucket and they didn't care. I was at the bottom of a little slope and Rocky was above me on the top ridge of the slope—backlit by the golden sun, behind him the fabulous mountain, long blades of golden grass swaying on either side. I said Wow, look at that picture...but didn't have my camera! I failed to get them anywhere near their original place. So Ganesh drove the SUV into the field and I was on foot swinging a lead rope and we coaxed them back into their area. Exactly what we felt like doing at the end of a workday.

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