The mudbrick chook house I built is now a tool shed. The four doors leading onto four different garden beds has been in use for the past three years and the ground needs a rest.
So the chooks are now in what we commonly refer to as the pig snot paddock. The pigs first started off in there and someone told us that there's an enzyme in pig snot that encourages soil bacteria and great growth. Not sure if it's true, but the paddock now has a name.
We needed a new chook pen. Enter, Trevor, king of the chook pen design and installation. With bits of this and nothing purpose bought he tacked it all together, insulated the walls and ceiling, ma-jiggered this, ma-jiggered that, and now here it is.
The first night we had to wait till the chooks were sleeping out in the paddock and nab, grab and throw them inside. They've got the idea now and have happily adopted their new home.
There were two roosters. But one didn't make the transfer. They've been fighting and generally going at it spur and beak for too long.
Instead Trev and I wait for Caleb to bring a friend over, we hand them the machete, tell them to make it quick and as stressless as possible and we'll make them a nice chicken stew. The young, it seems, are less concerned about the sanctity of life than us oldies. Though it doesn't make them any more inclined towards gutting and plucking.