I am a woman to be reckoned with. I am a powerful force. For good or for evil depending on the day. This weekend I was a chicken house related force.
I wrestled with hardware cloth, mostly winning the war but losing several battles (with gashes and gouges to prove it).
I showed my shitty staple gun who is boss and managed to get the rest of the run closed in securely, even if I did have to try 6-8 times for every staple that decided to lodge itself securely into the wood. I sawed rungs for the chicken ramp into the house, drilled and screwed the securely in place with my favorite tool (well maybe second favorite-the wall cutting saws-all is pretty hard to beat!) the power drill.
I added padlocks and hasp closures to keep out the raccoons (apparently they can figure out any other locking mechanism, at least according to my chicken class teacher) and added hooks for the keys that will keep them handy.
I secured the top of the run with a large piece of wood secured to the front of the chicken house and then drilled a strip of wood across to keep the hardware cloth in place, and took similar measures under the chicken run gate.
Even Mr. Dog looked on admiringly and said "I love a woman who can handle power tools!" Though to be fair, he said that after I looked a him threateningly when I decided to redo something and thought he was getting ready to make some kind of snotty remark. And I had a power drill in my hand at the time, so he may have been acting out of self-preservation than true admiration...but I'll still take it.
At any rate, the chicken coop is now secured, Mr. Dog added the gate and the latch and now we have a fully functioning place for our urban chicks. And I helped. I helped a lot.
I am handy. I am thorough. I am freakin' exhausted.
Pasta ala Fridge
5 years ago