It’s been a summer of transitions. In June we attended the wedding of one niece, Labor Day weekend will be the Washington celebration of another niece’s wedding. We missed a friend’s wedding due to mom’s unexpected ‘eviction’ and subsequent move from the adult family home where she lived. (The day after I wrote “The Girl in the Turquoise Swimsuit” we were given one hour to have a plan for moving mom that day, in spite of plans to move her the following week). Sadly, we’ve attended memorial/life celebrations of two long time friends dear to our hearts.
A summer of grief and sorrow, joy, stress…and love.
Though the rapid decline of mom, and the need to move her, has been demanding of time and energy, we managed to find time to tear down several coops, leaving behind a collection of old poultry houses. Losing our last chicken and one duck to a raccoon caused us to rethink, regroup, and ultimately, decide to rebuild. (See: ‘The Unexpected’). As with many things in life, before rebuilding, we thought it a good idea to clean up, clean out and eliminate the old.
A temporary house in the new coop, originally built to be a dog house decades ago, was unwanted by it’s intended and always housed ducks!
If you’ve never kept chickens, ducks or other types of poultry; a cow, horse or other livestock, you may not understand the physical and mental work required in putting up a coop or fence, or building a poultry house or barn (or why someone would write about doing so). The goal is always to keep the critters in your care in, and keep the critters that like to eat them out. In the past 35 years I’ve built, with help, five chicken coops, three duck coops, four chicken houses, a smaller ‘nesting’ house, one duck house, converted a dog house into a duck house, and, for Daisy the Jersey cow I once lived with, one barn and fenced in two pastures.
Shiny fencing, fresh paint, a spiffy green metal roof, we thought this little chicken house and coop would be our last. The house is still in good shape but the coop, needing repair, will come down, liberating another space in Nature.
I’ve worked along side, first, my friend Gene, then my Dad, and for the past 25 years, my husband Mike, digging holes and trenches, setting posts, stretching chicken wire, barbed wire, (getting poked and cut in the process), cranking necks to work above our heads to cover coops, weaving wire through all the overlaps. We’ve worked late at night by floodlights (a specialty of Mike’s and my project style) and occasionally in the rain, though we try to avoid that! We’ve hammered, stapled, cut, squared, leveled, installed old windows, roosts, various types of roofing materials, and set many cement blocks, all to make miniature houses of various shapes and sizes for feathered friends.
Never once while building these critter dwellings did I think about when or how we’d be tearing them down. It was always about making them strong and tight to hold up against diggers, climbers, snow, falling trees and tree branches. And over the years they all have needed repairs from diggers and climbers who find the chink in our fortresses, the snow that was heavier than the previous years, and falling trees and tree limbs.
With the building of each new coop or house we would take extra precautions, try to build a better coop, make what we thought would be a better house…easier to keep tight, clean, and maintained. Each new coop starts out with shiny silver-gray galvanized chicken wire, pungent and sweet scented reddish-brown cedar posts, yellowish white fir supports, and houses with a fresh coat of paint. As we tear them down, wire, nails, screws and staples are rusted, cedar posts, now gray with age, often rotten, fir supports, many long ago broken, have been repaired with pieces and patches. The houses are faded, some sides green with growth. But all are dry inside. There are sow bugs and ants living in the corners of every coop where two pieces of wood come together. In the houses, where feathered residents kept bugs at a minimum, there are a few spiders and moths.
Tear downs in the past were to move a coop or house to a different site. This time, tearing down was an ending. The woods will reclaim where the large chicken coop stood. If we move faster than the woods, the area enclosed by the smaller coop, yet to be torn down, will become part of the back yard. Tearing down the old duck coop opened new space with possibilities yet to be determined. Nature will decide if we don’t….and that’s okay. With each dismantling of a chicken wire enclosed space, there is a sense of having opened something up, a feeling of liberation. (For Mike it’s liberation from constant repairs of old rusting wire and rotting posts.)
And so it can be with life’s transitions. Death, often written about as liberation, frees the soul from the world, and perhaps from a body that has suffered. Marriage can bring freedom from loneliness. Commitments made at wedding ceremonies bring the freedom of knowing someone will care for, support, share dreams, life challenges, be your partner…and love you. Marriage can mean liberation from the seeking which drives many people’s lives, and inspires artistic endeavors from poems to paintings, movies and songs.
Mom, in her struggles, though freed from her own self-care and a life time of responsibilities, is waiting for liberation.
Mama Black Duck happily moved her young duckling into the spacious new duck house. The awning over the door has removable posts, it can be dropped down and serve as a door if needed at night, but with our new ‘security coop’, we hope that isn’t needed!
The new duck house, built from the recycled, reclaimed and discarded, is made completely from materials salvaged from the old dismantled duck house and miscellaneous materials found in the barn. It is fresh and new. Hopefully it is the best house we’ve built, in the most secure coop we’ve built. We tried to think like a duck, a weasel, a raccoon, a rat…..
I’d like to think I learned a few things in the past 35 years, at least about coops, and maybe about life transitions.