Corraling the Girls

We have finally reached a compromise in the on-going chicken war. Okay, "war" might be exaggerating the situation a little, but sometimes it has felt like a constant siege of free-ranging, free-pooping chickens on the one hand and the irritated complaints of 3/4s of my household who like running in the yard barefoot or more strangely, stepping out onto the deck without going on land-mine watch.

I've been siding with the chickens. I like watching them out the back window as I do dishes or sit at the table with my coffee. I like how big and orange my eggs are, I like how healthy and happy the girls seem to be, free to run around, flip in the dirt, or doze in little spots of shade. And isn't chicken poop excellent fertilizer? Yes. However, as it keeps trying to move into summer here I'm finding that maybe there might be a grain of sanity in wanting to be able to sit out on the deck without tiptoeing around poop or having to kick chickens away from my lunch.

Like the good married couple we are, my husband and I finally reached a compromise which should satisfy all involved (well, maybe not the chickens, whose freedom has been severely curtailed, but oh well). And like all of our projects, it's a little funky, our solution. Better Homes & Gardens is certainly not going to be knocking on my door anytime soon to do a spread on us. It works, though, and I should finally be able to get some flowers in planters and herbs in the raised bed without fear of them being demolished by the girls.