Farmer Reuben gifted me the remaining flock of hens for the family. So, in February, I became the hen caretaker, egg collector and washer.
It’s not a bad job and I don’t mind having a reason to get out of bed and go outside before breakfast, although I think it will be more enjoyable in the summer.
This week I’m trudging a bucket of hot water to the chicken coop to fill their water and melt the ice that built up overnight. I also have to feed them a bit more because they need the energy from their food to produce body heat to stay warm.
But the biggest challenge so far, was two mornings ago when I couldn’t open the door to the coop. What?! I unlatched it and pushed it but I only got two inches. I can’t get through that small of an opening, even my kids can’t; and I certainly can’t get the bucket of water through.
Something must have frozen behind the door. So, I did what any farm wife would do… I called my dad for help. (The farmer has more important problems to deal with on a frozen morning.)
Dad came across the road for me and checked it out.
Poop! Frozen chicken dirt right in front of the door. Dad was able to scrape it out of the way so I could get in. Thanks, Dad!
The chickens were happy to see me, scolded me for being late, and promised not to poop by the door again. We’ll see.