“The chickens have come home to roost.” That was a popular saying about perceived justice when I was growing up. These days, it is more likely that I am speaking literally when I say such as that.

Yes, a veritable animal farm is in the works at the house. A good friend sent some Buff Orpington chickens my way on Saturday, which translates to ‘yeller chickens’ in local language. That’s sort of like the way Dominiques translates to ‘dominecker.’ Of course, any black and white chicken is a ‘dominecker’ to hear most folks tell it. Since I was, as usual, unprepared for the birds’ arrival, I had to rush to get their house built. I worked on it for two afternoons, building the floor in the driveway and then putting the walls together separately before joining the pieces together at the spot on the far side of my lawn where the coop will likely stay. It is sheltered from the wind by a bank nearby, offered shade during a portion of the day by a couple of trees and far enough away from the house to prevent me from waking up to objectionable odors.

Right now, the birds are only about six weeks old. There are about 23 of them altogether and they seem to be fairly easy to get along with. That’s one of the hallmarks of the breed — the fact that they are easy going. After working with such excitable breeds as Rhode Island Reds, I was happy to hear that the birds were generally docile.

Knowing that 23 birds would lay about 12 eggs a day, I decided to give a portion of them away once they get big enough to sex, or rather separate by sex. The roosters, hopefully few in number, will soon start to display their tell-tale combs and stature. Right now, they’re all just chickens.

Since I built the house from a plan that existed only in my mind, I was very pleased that it turned out so well. I used all scrap pieces of plywood, which I had laying around the house for a good while. Some came from an old building I tore down on the land when I bought it and others from my big two-story shop building that I constructed several years ago. None were the right size, some were partially damaged or rotted and others were just plain small.

Of course, I had to keep reminding myself I was building a chicken house, not a home for myself. Chickens aren’t nearly so finicky as we are. They want a dry place without unwanted drafts, no opening for attacking hungry critters, a few poles to sit on and a few boxes to lay eggs in.

Overall, I’d call it a fairly simple plan, even though I probably should have started it on paper.

I ripped down a 2x10 to use for the floor joists, which ended up being a little over two inches wide. I used the scraps to build part of the walls. The walls themselves were built using as much scrap stuff as I could find, with a few 2x4x12s that I had purchased to use on the back porch roof. If anyone’s keeping score, that would be the back porch roof that I haven’t built yet.

I always try to use as much scrap as I can to build with, saving pieces in piles here and there to use at some undefined later time. This project helped me get rid of a good number of those. The walls, although they looked a bit funny after having been made with a patchwork of different kinds of plywood (as was the floor), turned out just fine. After a coat of barn red is applied, no one will know the difference. If there isn’t any barn red paint in my used paint collection, there is a good chance that it might end up grey or blue or even chartreuse. I’m sure the chickens won’t mind.

I was out on Monday night until nearly 9 p.m. attaching tin to the roof joists. I was wearing my ‘head light’ which allows me to point a beam of light wherever I’m looking. It also makes one look at least 90 percent silly. But looking silly never stopped me. None of my neighbors are out at 9 p.m. nailing down roof panels, but they seem to tolerate me just the same.

As for the chickens, they are too young to go outside right now. I will have a little bit of time before their wire-surrounded outside lot needs to be finished. But not much. Since I usually do everything at the last minute, I’m sure this will be no exception. I better put new batteries in my light.

I’m not really sure why I got chickens, but I do know there is nothing like fresh eggs in the morning. With the pork I’ve already put in the freezer, I probably should go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment. My cholesterol likely will be reaching astronomical levels in the near future. If I can survive the artery-clogging goodness of country food, I know I’ll be eating good.

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