At long (way too long) last, the chickens will make their move from giant dog crates in the garage to the spiffy new “Coop DeVille” barely 30 feet away. The special order siding was delivered and installed, and I’m pretty delighted with the overall effect. It’s different from the house siding, but the stained cedar trim ties it in to the style of the house. From the chickens’ point of view, the best part might be the 6′ fenced yards on either side of the coop, so they can scratch for bugs and leaves without risking their relative safety, since the neighborhood has resident fox, coyote, skunk and exuberant domestic dogs.

There’s a little bit of finish work to do inside today before the pullets bed down for the night. I have to paint their roost ladder and make some progress on the nest boxes. No one has started laying eggs yet, but it could happen any day. In fact, I ordered egg collection baskets yesterday so we’ll be ready.

Above is the big yard. The fenced area on the other side is smaller, but big enough to alternate with this one, or we can open both areas at once. Inside, there are several bars for the hens to roost on at night, two feeders, a five-gallon waterer and a space for six nestboxes.

Trouble gets the honor of being the first to explore her new digs.

Rhoda, Vera and Rosie are among the first to discover the roost bar against the back wall of the coop. Soon all the chickens were playing follow the leader.

The rest of the crew checks out the bedding of pine shavings and straw. They flung it this way and that, nestled into it, and tried their best to scatter it. It didn’t go very far — a new benefit of four solid walls.

Happy almost first day of summer, too! It’s been feeling like summer at last, hasn’t it? Sunshine… on my shoulder makes me happy. And it makes me hum old songs, too, apparently.

Some folks have been asking for updates on things in my neck of the woods, so here’s a quick rundown (even if you’re not that interested in rocks and chickens, scroll to the end for a cool water lily photo).

Out with the rock, in with the roses

Thanks for all your suggestions about removing the big rock from the area where I wanted to plant a climbing rose. I think the rock has great character. I’ll be finding a place to give it some face time along my front entrance soon. Anyone know what kind of rock it is? I’m igneous (sorry).

My neighbor Larry happened to come by yesterday and I told him about it. While I was out getting straw to mulch the garden, the rock mysteriously moved from the hole to the front of the house. Thanks, Larry! I know it was you. I saw the Bobcat tracks!

Is Trouble in trouble?

All the chickens are well, but not all are happy. Betty the rooster has been chasing the gals around the pen and pinning them down to do unspeakable things to them. Betty is pretty sure that Trouble is a girl, incidentally. I don’t mind a roo doing what comes naturally, but …well, have you ever seen ducks do it? It ain’t pretty. And Trouble just isn’t that into Betty.

So today I put Trouble, Martha, Zelda and Rhoda in the garden. I rigged up some shade and water and they learned to dig. It was all very exciting. When I put Trouble back, Betty made it clear he, um, missed her. So I put her in the other pen (they sit side-by-side), but then the other chickens didn’t care for the intruder. Now, you know Trouble is my favorite chicken, and it’s not easy watching her get it from all sides. So now Betty has his own cage. He doesn’t like it. He says Trouble teases him. But she doesn’t. Perhaps re-homing Betty is the answer, so if you know anyone who needs a nice Ancona boy (not in their freezer or stew pot), let me know.

Which will come first, the coop or the egg?

The coop is coming along, but still is not ready. We’re putting hardware cloth on the windows to keep out predators. The electrician is coming tomorrow to run wire to a couple of outlets and hook up a light. The main holdup is the galvanized siding I want, giving the coop a cool, modern look. It’s special order. It’s going to be a race to see if the hens get in the coop before they lay their first eggs.

Something fishy

Oh, and I added some goldfish to the watergarden recently. I must’ve put 100 little fish in there, and I see about five whenever I look for them. I think they are all hiding. Maybe they heard about Betty. I hope to add some koi soon, but I want to see if the goldfish survive before I invest in koi, as they are not cheap.

The waterlilies are looking lovely though, and the water is almost warm enough to dip hot feet into. Bring on summer!

Ah, spring. Seeds in the ground. Flowers in the pots. Chickens in the garage. Wait — the car is supposed to be in the garage (especially during hailstorms). But the ever-patient chickens continue to be “cooped up” in the garage while the construction guys build them a beautiful abode.

I keep telling the girls it will be worth waiting for, and now they believe me. After the guys leave for the day, I’ve started to get a few hens at a time and let them explore their new digs.

Zoey (that’s the black and white one; a Silver-laced Wyandotte) seemed very at home, and Martha Graham (a Speckled Sussex who dances) seemed to completely approve. Trouble didn’t really say one way or the other. He was busy eating the hosta and magnolia bush near the new coop (and by the way, Trouble isn’t crowing yet, so I’m starting to doubt my proclamation that he is a he.)

The coop, dubbed “Coop DeVille” by architect Peter Curtis, boasts all the modern conveniences for chickens. It features windows to let in light and air on all four sides, lots of vertical room for roosting and lovely nest boxes for comfort while egg-laying. Of course, right now it still needs shingles and siding.

I think it’s safe to say, though, that both the chickens and humans involved are looking forward to moving day in the near future!

Turns out, I’m not the only one at my house who’s eager to dig in the dirt. The chickens want to be scratching outdoors. Having outgrown the basement bathroom, they are now housed in the garage in four giant dog crates. I think of it as a staging area for their final move to the yet-to-be-built “Coop de Ville” in a couple of weeks.

Martha Graham (left), Darla (with beard) and Isadora (front) . Betty the rooster is on the perch at the back of the cage.

The last time it rained, we made the mistake of gathering up some worms from the paved road and offering them to the chickens. They loved them, of course, but now they are sure our fingers are fat yummy worms.

Feeding time has become challenging. Yesterday, one of the chickens grabbed my finger and wouldn’t let go. The chickens are also fascinated with my polarfleece shirt, zippers, buttons, rings, watches and anything else that could possibly be interpreted as a bug. Those old grain crumbles you’ve been feeding us? Blech! Bring on the grubs and wiggly things!

P.S. My boy Trouble is doing well, but another chicken beat him to the first attempt at crowing. “Betty” wins that award. Now, what are we gonna do with more than one rooster? (I know, I know, don’t say “stew pot”)

Meet Trouble. He rules the roost.

Yes, he.

I know. We only ordered female chicks. Chicks that would grow into pullets and then hens and lay eggs. Make no mistake, Trouble is no hen.

He was the first chick to find his way out of the kiddie pool home and go exploring in my office. While the other chicks were busy eating, Trouble was always busy earning his name. He wanted to be part of anything going on. Well, not just a part of it. He wanted to be in the middle of it. Bold, brash and full of his bad self, Trouble was not like the other chicks. I think it took me three days to decide he was, indeed, a he.

“If we end up with any roosters” said my partner, “they are going in the stew pot!”

Big words. But somehow, I don’t think they are going to apply to Trouble. It took awhile, but I’ve grown very fond of the way he hops out of the cage, up my arm, onto my shoulder. And the way he is everywhere all at once when we bring broccoli bits for the girls. And the way he looks at me, like he just knows that we’re pals sharing some endearing secret.

Yeah, Trouble is my boy. Now I’ve just got to convince my partner and the neighbors and the hens.