New Toys, I Mean Tools

After months and months of indecision, the new toy, I mean new tool has finally arrived. Not a lawn mower, not a brush grinder, but a brush mower.  Designed to cut brush and woody weeds, the brush mower was chosen as Plan473 no longer has access to the shredder. Well I should say no longer has easy access as the shredder now resides with the Worrier about five hours away.  And with no trailer to haul the shredder on either, the brush mower really was the only decision.  Having needed to the mow the spray field over two months ago, the spray heads were now completely over grown with cord grass and they are over two feet in the air!  We really should have purchased this months ago.

No time like the present. Having read the list of the all the safety gear one needs to operate the brush mower, the Kid was prepared.  Instructions were read, brush mower was assembled, and the break-in routine was followed. Guess the Kid thought taking notes on the break in routine could be dangerous to the ears and eyes.  I asked if he has safety gear for his brain.  When asked why, I said his brain was likely to explode after not having used it all summer.  Ha, ha. Score was for me! He did not find my humor as funny as me.

With the break in routine complete, the Planner gave it a once around the property to test all variants of brush.  He cut a pass through the cord grass, across the coastal patch, around the water platform, back through the seven foot tall sunflower patch behind the trailer, and back through the cord grass in a narrow path instead of full width.  Not bad.  The mower did not like the coastal grass much but this is to be expected as it not a mower and does not contain a mower shoot.  Without a mower shoot, the coastal is too long, stringy, and thick to mulch easily.

Unable to mulch, the coastal bunches up and leaves windrows.  Another pass and they were gone.  But not before the doggo had her fun.  Uh, uh, uh, grumble, grumble, moan, moan.  She was loving the freshly cut grass.  Really going to have to video her doing her dog grass rolls.  She makes the craziest of grunts and groans.

With a quick lesson on how to operate and what to do if you panic, the Kid was off mowing the thinner cord grass on the perimeter.  As with all things currently, the Kid does not weigh enough to handle the mower in the thick grass. That was left for me.

When the Kid's arms finally gave out (hard to handle a mower with twigs for arms) I finally got my turn.  In case you did not know, I was born for manual labor.  Let no blade stand before me.  Except when it is home to a wolf spider and her egg sac.  This lovely specimen was one of several dozen I mowed around.  Some were in sacs and some were on backs.  I wouldn't even let the chickens see them.  Don't know if chickens would eat a spider the size of a soda can lid but this was not a chance I was willing to take. Man how I just love new toys.  I mean tools.

Repairs, Yet Again

Having spent the better part of the morning enjoying the beautiful summer day at the harbor wall, Plan473 had to return home to spend the afternoon repairing.  Again.  If major rust control did not happen soon, we will be living in piles of rust.

Some of the repairs are due to design flaws such as all of the window hatches.  The window hatches are made square tubing and conex paneling as seen more clearly in post What Light!  Hatches then fit tightly around the window openings to secure against hurricane winds.  Conex panels are corrugated.  Corrugated panels with square tubing makes for water pockets. Water pockets makes for rust pockets.  Rust pockets leads to rust holes.  Rust holes lead to unsecured hatches.  Unsecured hatches leads to hurricane damage.

To alleviate the water pockets, small 1/8" holes were drilled in the panels to allow for drainage.  The Planner is confident these small holes will not affect the integrity of the hatch covers during a hurricane.  Hopefully, this theory will not be tested anytime in the next near future.

Once drilled, the rust and scale were sandblasted off and red primer was applied.  The Kid's Box only has three windows so his box repairs were easily completed.  The Work Box on the other hand....

My box, the Work Box was not in the best condition when purchased last March.  There was already come major scale concerns and lots of areas that needed to be stripped and repainted.  Well, that was last March and time at the Salt Capitol City of the World has lead to even more scale and more rusty areas.

A sand blaster was used to quickly remove the rusty areas with ease.  Many tools could have been used, but with rust in rusty environments, it is critical to remove corrosive rust before repainting otherwise the rusty spot will continue to rust under the fresh coat of paint. So with pitted rust, such as the Work Box contained, a sand blaster was the tool of choice.

Besides being quick, it does a better job than any hand sander and is easier too.  Easy is better as there is lots and lots to do.  Working around the door was easy as there were not areas of thick scale.  The sides of the box, where yet again the panel meets the tubing frame, was all together a different story.

Scale.  Lots and lots of thick corrosive, detrimental to box lifespan, scale. To save on sand media for the blaster, the Planner used a scaler to remove the scale.  No imaginative thought for that tool name.  Scalers, are a pneumatic tool with a bunch of tiny rods that vibrate back and forth and about a thousand RPM a second.  Very effective.  Better than a chip and hammer.  Trust me, we tried that before the scaler.  Maybe if I had all the time in the world and no electricity.  Maybe.  So with the scaler in hand, the Planner went off to remove scale.  Went off to create more work as it turns out.

Full disclosure, this thick scale was the reason repairs were started. There was just now way scale this thick had not worked its way down into the core of the frame work.  Holes to be repaired are work but water in the frame work is bad. Bad. Bad bad.

After scaling was complete, I came behind the Planner and cleaned the metal down to almost white clean with the sand blaster.  From the picture above, you can see how pitted the corrugated panel is from the deep level of scale removed.  Guess we should have descaled the Work Box last summer.  Can't image what the Shop Box frame work looks like as they have been up over two years already.  Ugh.

Upon cleaning, the Planner attempted to patch weld the tiny hole in the frame work. Big mistake.  Big.  What was once a small hole the size of an eraser is now a hole the size of a nickel.  Spot welding is not gonna work.  Gonna have to modify a piece of sheet steel to fit within the space and weld around its perimeter.

After many cardboard template cutouts, the perfect patch piece was aligned, welded, and red primer painted.  Be as it is with all Plan473 projects, time was not on our side and the project was abandoned for another day.

 Of course, we had time to stop and play with the neighbors' cat, Loca (Spanish for crazy) ...

and her two kittens Beans and Frank.  Loca was already named but is the most appropriate name for a cat if ever there was.  Beans and Frank are the Kids creation.  Originally he had something boring like Bob and Frank but after explaining about Beans and Weenies i.e. Beans and Franks, he decided Beans and Frank were better.  Unlike their mother, Beans and Frank were timid and very cautious.  Loca, not so much so.  She gave into the wind and its notion.  Which is probably how Beans and Frank came to be.  Oh, how Plan473 would love to have kitties.  Kitties to go with the goat.  But alas, we are on a NO MORE pet policy.  Chickens excluded from this rules as they are not pets.

All in all, morning slack time and late evening slack time aside, it was a very productive day at Plan473.

Pity Pets Integration

Three months have already come and gone since the Pity Pets were brought home.  When released from the coop to free range, the first few weeks they stayed as their own individual unit.  It did not take them long to roam with the pack. Being with the pack provided protection as Nurpel (the second acquired rooster) was on the hunt for a hen of his own as the new hens were his target. And as the senior flock are not pets, the Pity flock are not pets either.  In fact, I would say they are even less pet than the senior flock.  None of the feather friends can be held, touched, or collected.  On such occasions where a hen needs to be examined it takes all three of us to coral her in the 8x10 coop.  They are truly here for pest control.

Oh, and pooing on the deck and stepping stones. Daily, upon release from the coop, the hens follow a very rigid routine: 1) run to every water location (doggo water, water collection under Rainstream air conditioner, 5 gallon bucket in shower, etc...) and drink like as if you are parched and 2) upon water round completion, run to the deck and poop. Your sudden influx of water will run straight thru you and the poop will be a watery mess on the deck.  Perfect.

Stupid chickens.

So yes, within three short months the Pity flock has integrated fairly well into the senior flock.  When inside the coop, there seems to be very little arrangement of the pecking order, even amongst those at the bottom.  Feathers have almost fully returned and they have reached their full grown height.

The two Golden Lace Wyandottes (Twink 1 and Twink 2) are the slightly smaller than the Black Sussex (Squawky McSquawkerson aka Loudmouth).  Given a chance, they could over take her position as queen.  Not something I foresee in the near future as Grumpy still rules the roost, but it is possible.  Maybe.  Her look right now tells me to rethink that last statement, but her days are limited.  The Twinks have the even temperament of the Barred Rocks as they too are not very vocal and are happy being in the middle of the pack.

Closer in size to the smallest Barred Rock (Nosy Nellie, above) is the Golden Sexlink (Sunset) which can be seen in the above picture by the chicken ramp.  She too is very happy in the middle of the pack but is competitive when being released from the coop.  Watch out as she will charge out the door to be the first to the water bowl.  More than once she has had her head caught in the coop door.  Gulk! Other than her escape moments she is chill.

As for the Brown Leghorn (Ears), she is an outcast thru and thru.  The tiniest of all the hens, she was and is the most picked on.  I keep telling her it was because she slept on the coop window instead of the roosting bars.  But, hey what do I know.  She is also the only hen who lays white eggs which are so tiny they don't even seem real.  They are oval shaped ping pong balls.  When released from the coop, she leaves to do her own thing and manages to ward off the second rooster (Nurple) mostly. On very aggressive days, she will hang closer to the other rooster (Chicken) but away from the hens.  Days have come where Nurple has succeeded in catching a her, but the ruckus they cause results in Chicken chasing Nurple around and around.  It is an epic daily battle.  If the battle continues or if Nurple becomes too aggressive and hurts a hen, he will have to go.  The hens only need one rooster and Chicken is the man.

It is Chicken who surprised me the most during the integration of the Pity Pets.  He never once flocked them or chased them or rushed them.  He just watched and protected and they came around on their own for his protection.  To date, he has yet tried to advance upon them and yet is just as protective.  With exception to Ears, he is a perfect guard rooster and I cannot image having the hens without him.  Of course, he no longer sleeps in the tree outside the bedroom and rarely crows at 3:35AM anymore.  With time, Chicken has learned to temper back his beakadee-beakadee-beak-beak. Hopefully, he will be around for a little while longer to fully integrate any new additional flock members.

I Am Woman, See Me Weld

There comes a time when everyone needs their own space.  Living in tight quarters usually promotes this more often than for people living in McMansions.  Needing individual space comes more from having a tween than anything else.  If you have had or currently have a boy tween then you understand this next statement.  Boys Stink.  Must be a puberty thing cause it is not a shower thing as taking showers is a daily act of frustration for all at Plan473 but one that I the Queen Bee always win.  Somethings in life can be flexible, personal hygiene is not one of them.  So even with daily showers and teeth scrubbings (many times with threats to accomplish this myself) the Kid's box smells like a gym locker.  With the Kid needing his own space and me needed more office space than a 2 x 3 fold up table, the Planner and I worked out a quick fix.

First it started with a need for a fridge for cold water that was readily available and not a tromp to the Rainstream.  Having salvaged a dorm room mini fridge during Harvey, the fridge was dug out of storage and given a wash down.  The only visible damage from the storm was two small scratches on the side.  The side hidden by the wall.  Even inside glass shelves and crisper drawer were still intact.  Perfect.  It just needs to cool down two gallons of water.  Nothing fancy.

Quickly dried in the summer sun, the Planner and the Kid brought it inside, reassembled it, and leveled it the floor.  Checking to ensure the box door does not crash into the fridge, the unit was plugged in and water was chillin'. First office furniture installed in the Work Box, check.

Having spent the last 30 years around welders and their welder friends, I quickly discovered a trend.  All welders are men.  Huh.  Welding is not physically restrictive to woman as there are tools and equipment used to move materials.  Welding just has been a man's trade the same as daycare workers are women.  Being a teacher and daycare director for too many years to count, I can attest to this little known fact: men make fabulous teachers for children of all ages.  The Planner has always encouraged me to weld as I am meticulous, patient, and persistent. Well, what better object to try my hand at welding than my very own desk.  Not having to worry for strength integrity issues and with most welds hidden due to design, this would be a great first go around.

To ease my first experience, the Planner tacked all the edges, handed over the MIG welder gun, and walked away.  Knowing I have the understanding of what is needed as I have watched him and asked about his technique for 20+ years now, he also knew that I would do better without an audience. So he left. In the corner of his Shop Box with it feet propped up, he sat in a chair and proceeded to play on his phone as if nothing were more intriguing.  After switching position to position to find my zone, I concentrated, welded, asked questions, and repeated the process.  All corners done found the Planner staring at me.  Apparently I welded left handed and upside down.  Some where in my brain is a disconnect as I also crochet left handed and backwards.  The job gets done and looks exactly like it should but is done as no other person can do nor instruct me to do as they cannot do it themselves. In college when I wanted to perfect my womanly check boxes, I joined the crocheting guild at the local JoAnn Fabric and none of the members could help me learn.  Had to do it myself. Needless to say, I made one pot holder and a scarf and hung up the idea of making blankets.

Welding was not like that.  Welding produced real usable results.  With few exceptions, there is nothing that can't be ground away and started over on.  Welding will be done again as I enjoyed it almost as I enjoyed cooking.  When the time comes to build custom made built in cabinets and what not for the Home Box, I am totally gonna be the one welding.  I am woman, see me weld.  Welding can be added to my love of all things "manly": lawnmowers, weed-eaters, and above all others: CHAINSAWS.  Nothing like the smell of two stroke in the morning. Or noon or night for that matter.  Wait, what's that?  Is that the sound of a chainsaw a mile away?

A quick grind to smooth the edges and a blast of evergreen paint and the desk was almost done.  Next was the 3/4" plywood work top. Still having not mastered the skill saw skills after all this time, the Planner cut out the plywood.  Once done, I rounded the corners, smoothed the surfaces, applied a thin layer of bees wax, left it to cure in the sun.

After a full day of drying for both the frame and bees wax, the welder tacked the desk to the wall.  As a free floating desk to save floor space, the tacks are needed to ensure the desk does not move during any turbulent winds that may arrive during the next windy season.  The desk top was installed and computers were situated.  While not fully reconnected to the world yet, this 32" x 92" custom made work table is better than a fold up plastic table in the Kid's Box.  And is smells better too!

Doing the Monarch Caterpillar Chomp

On one of my many numerous trips across the deck, I happen to glance over and notice a marvel. Another monarch caterpillar chomping away on a tropical milkweed flower bud.  Unlike the leaf chomper, this caterpillar was chomping as if his life depended on it.  In a way, I guess it does.  Also, unlike the leaf chomping video, this video contains no video editing as is filmed in real time.  In a little over five minutes, a bud the size of a soybean was completely devoured. Completely fascinating.

And if the bud chomping monarch caterpillar wasn't enough excitement for one day, look what the Planner discovered! Tropical milkweed sprouts from self pollination. Over a dozen, too.  Plan473 did not even have to wait until next year for more plants. In two short months, this little plant has grown and pollinated and prolificated.  What's better, if you look closely on the picture you can see more pollination spores laying atop of the mulch. 

Butterfly on Film

In the last few weeks, Plan473 has turned into a nature's playground.  With warmer days, more and more hummingbirds have been seen and heard flying about, bees in various shapes and sizes are always within sight of the Esperanza, and the butterflies are appearing on their migration paths. 

What an amazing experience!

Repairs Are Endless

The Circle of Life: with life comes death,with age comes growth, with usage comes wear. Repairs are just a natural part of life.  Having been potted and re-potted two or three times since its capture from the cow pasture back in October 2017, the olive tree has been officially placed in its final pot.  Not trusting the salt laden ground to adequate growth in minerals and nutrients, the olive tree was placed in a scrap sonotube pot.  Having been hanging out in storage since the Work Box build back at the February of 2018, the Planner decided it was good usage of a natural material.

Next on the agenda was a modification to the chicken coop nesting box.  Since having been released to stay and play with the senior flock, the Pity Pets have taken to sleeping in the nesting box.  Not healthy for long term living conditions and happy coop life, a nesting box door was attached. 

Taking my initial design, the Planner came along and made it better by adjusting the length and adding a middle strap so that the "door" can be easily stored out of the way during the day and is guaranteed not to fall out when the hens have their nesting box parties.  Worse, when the rooster crashes the party and a fight breaks out.

Next was securing the chicken run door.  Not made of the best quality and not designed for outside usage, I would say this door has held up better than expected.  I mean it survived being zip tied during Hurricane Harvey and came out on the other side without damage.  A few bracings later and the door was good to go.

Door open, door closed, senior hens cannot be bothered with repairs underway when there are eggs to lay. Stand aside humans.

Having spent all day Saturday working, the Kid and I were sitting on the deck watching the hummerbirds (that is hummingbirds for all you non Rockportians) when nature stuck.  Spring winds have a history of being gutsy, but NOT this gusty.  The winds blew over the 10' tall Esperanza. One minute it is there, the next minute its a gonner.

Blew it, root and all, right out of the ground. Damm, sam!  Another thing to repair.

After a few tears and several attempts to replant, it was pulled. 

A quick trip down to the local mom and pop plant store informed me of my planting fallacy.  Esperanzas are drought resistant (which is on the many reasons why they are popular by Plan473) and do not like to have wet feet.  YIKES!  Being planted as a barrier to the outside shower, the poor plant suffered root rot.  The five gallon replacement brought back, already in bloom, was planted further out from the shower to allow for better drainage.  Good thing about our soil is that it drains fast.  Bad thing about our soil is that it drains fast.  Several more were purchased later in the week from the local big box store but were only pint sized varieties and were planted in various locations around for future growth and bloomage to offset the lack of shade from Harvey damage to the oak trees.

Another repair made to offset Harvey damage was to add a sun shade to the chicken run.  Trees that protected the chickens in years past were blown over or stripped of foliage.  Those stripped of foliage that survived still have not fully recovered and offer little protection from the intense summer sun.  Recommended by another Harvey shade sufferer, this simple 8x10 back yard sunscreen worked perfectly.

Light enough to hang from the coop without damage to the wire yet strong enough to withstand the gusty winds without damage.  Not needing to be told what to do, the chickens immediately flocked to the shade.  Another simple fix to a much needed repair.

Last but not least on a weekend full of repairs, the Planner tossed his well worn, age made comfortable, irreparable boots.  Leather is treated regularly for durability, laces are replaced when worn thru and broken, soles are glued and stapled until one day, the boot dies.  Never wanting new shoes, the inevitable was done.  Shoe laces were salvaged and shoes were tossed.  On a side note, I will have you know, this pair of boots sat on this chair for over a week and never once did one or both go missing.  NOT ONCE.  My boots sat outside one night and poof, Why the Boots! 

Hummingbird On Film

Plan473 consists of an acre and half of native grasses and flowers, half dozen potted plants picked especially with hummingbirds and butterflies in mind, and two sugar water feeders always filled fresh and clear from April to October.  After almost four years of filming and photo, a hummingbird has been caught on film. Years of planning, planting, and pruning have finally paid off. 

It was a very exciting moment!  

Pity Pets Update

Hearing a great commotion in the coop late one evening, the culprit was not four footed and furry nor sneaky and slithery,  It was two footed and feathered.  Just two days into her new surroundings, a rebel has developed.  Just two days and this little brown leghorn was already causing trouble. by wanting to roost in the coop.  Much to her dismay, the senior coop residents did not want her.  After much squabble and bickering and roost resettling, the tiniest of the new additions took solace on the coop door window.  What a pitiful little thing she is.  She is half the size of the next largest hen.  While not picked on by other hens, she is already an outlier.

During the day the senior flock are given the boot and the coop run door is closed allowing the little peepers free time to explore the permanent water and pellet feeder.  Of course, this is not always done without some resistance by the senior flock.  Most don't care but Nose Nellie is not having this separation.  Not aggressive by any means, although if looks could kill in this picture...., she is however super nosy.  Every time the roosting shavings are cleaned she comes a running with her little chicken butt swinging as fast her legs will carry her.  She has to be right there under your feet and rake while cleaning the shavings.  She scratches and pecks at the old shavings and new shavings looking for any edible item. When the coop door is opened to collect eggs, she hears the door squeak and there she is waiting for any bug to fall.  Most of the time she is a lucky duck as the wood roaches love the space between the coop door and the coop.  When the door is opened, the roaches fall off its perch to ground below and immediately beaked by Nosy Nellie.  Of course on the day of this picture she is nosy for all the right reasons.  She sees food.

Two weeks and having already grown in size, the Pity Pets are looking much better and are out growing their temporary residence.  Looks, however, can be deceiving.  Having had ample time to eat both starter feed and pellet feed, I thought it would be fun to introduce them to sweet treats.  Cutting a sweet red apple into quarters, one quarter was thrown into the coop for the new flock to taste and the rest to the gullets outside the coop. Instead of attacking the apple as the rest were doing, the Pity Pets looked at the apple slice with distrust. For hours that quarter of an apple just sat there, unpecked. How pitiful.

The apple may have been untrustworthy to the residents inside the coop but to the residents locked outside, this apple sitting there in all its red beauty was just too much.  First it was Nosy Nellie.  Later in the afternoon it was the doggo. Red apples are some of her favorite sweet treats.  Pity she did not get a quarter. Guess she figured if she stared long and hard enough at the apple slice, her mind powers would bring it to her.  It didn't by the way.

Pity Pets

Genetics control a persons characteristics, hair, height, eye, etc. Simple biology everyone remembers from Bio I and Bio II. What genetics does not control is what I refer to as generational characteristics.  There is current field of study called epigenetics, "a term used to describe inheritance by mechanisms other than through the DNA sequence of a gene" researching traits passed from parent to child that are not genetic.  In trying to better understand this research I stumbled upon this overly detailed, highly intelligent post written by the Britain Society for Cell Biology. Being I took Bio I and II over 20 years ago and this was way more than what was covered or remember from those classes, after attempting to process the information within this article, I came away understanding less than before I started. What I was trying to determine was if a trait tactic employed by a parent passes to the child unknowingly only to be used by the child years later as an adult unwillingly.

For example: Friday of Easter weekend while enjoying out favorite breakfast, the Kid was complaining about the upcoming five hour ride he had to endure. Understanding the Kid is just being a Kid and that while the drive really is five long hours, the ride is relatively easy.  He has his own seat, a pile of books to read, a phone to play on (if he doesn't run his tween mouth), and the final destination is somewhere he wants to go: Great Grandmas. His complaints mostly unregistered on my irritation level, I was sitting there enjoying the moment when one my mothers most annoying tactics appeared. The tiny fiddle, playing his tiny sad song.  BAM!  Out of no where too.  Having not lived at home since I was 20, this tiny fiddle and all of its irritation has not been seen nor heard nor endured in more than 20 years.  Yet there it was.  A tactic so easily used on my fingers, one would think I used it daily. 

But I don't. This irritating act caught me so off guard I started laughing.  The Planner who has been with me longer than without me found it funny too.  For him it was novelty.  For me it was, it was, it was... Words cannot describe.  After the laughs died I had to explain the tiny fiddle and its sad song, where it came from, and how it works.  As a child I would tell myself I would NEVER as an adult use the tiny fiddle.  It was a pity motion.  A poor woe is you motion.  Every time I saw that tiny fiddle, I repeated this mantra.  It must have worked because I can honestly say I have NOT ONCE since leaving home have ever thought of it.  So where did it come from? Epigenetics?  Don't know.  What I do know, is that it is leaving.

Going to Great Grandmas is a treat.  She is a tiny little German who is and always has been frail thin, unlike my large stock German heritage.  At 84, she had lived more life than most.  Born and raised in Texas Hill Country, she spent many years starving as this is a dry brutal land unsuitable to make a living from, yet managed to raise seven kids and is blessed with hordes of grandchildren and great grandchildren who come to visit regularly.  In her spare time when she is not working at the local restaurant or is in town at one of her numerous daily activities, she is managing the house and all of its responsibilities, cutting the grass, feeding her hundreds of hummingbirds, crocheting on one of her various projects for friends, or tending to her fabulous garden.

And while those are just a few of the fabulous things she does, it is her garden that amazes me the most.  I cannot grow a pot plant in a pot and this woman grows Southern Living worthy plants in dry, parched, unforgiving dirt.  Seriously, just look at the ground.  Nothing should grow there, yet it does.  As if it the flowers were genetically modified for that dirt.

For all the beauty found in her garden, it was this little gem stealing the show.  Unlike the tropical milkweed in a bucket at Plan473, Great Grandma has real native Texas Milkweed with monarch caterpillars and ladybugs to boot too.  There were dozens of these fabulous little plants with dozens of little caterpillars happily chomping away.   It was a pity knowing the plant would never transfer to the coastal bend, I left hoping my tropical milkweed would spread and grow and then next year I too would have dozens of milkweeds with dozens of caterpillars who grow into dozens of butterflies.

Growing into butterflies has yet to happen as the only caterpillar that has been seen morphing into the next stage of life was eaten while gone.  Before leaving the Kid and I watched in fascination as the caterpillar was preparing itself for the next stage.  Preparing for the chrysalis stage, the caterpillar finds a safe place and does a type of wiggle dance.  Not having my phone there are not pictures of videos to show, Luckily for you, this is the day of the internet so you can watch one from the USFWS. Watching it jump, and swing, and vibrate we were prepared to watch the stage before our eyes.  But it didn't.  And when we came back it was broken.  Bummer. Both the Kid and I were so let down.  I had a moment of pity as I should have protected the caterpillar from all the mean things in life.  Life is life and death is part of life too.

Later in the week, after another trip to the doctor for the Kid (he developed a rash to an antibiotic and was covered in head to toe rash) I stopped by the local mom and pop feed store for some happiness in fluff form.  Knowing they would have little peppers as it was just Easter, we swung in to review their newest collections.  Boy howdy, did they have a ton.  Some of the most plentiful in multi stages of age were bantams, Rhode Island reds, and Buff Orphingtons.  There were hundreds of little peepers all warm and toasty in their red light cages.  The Kid wanted one of every one.  While admiring the flock, the chicken man said there were some pullets around back if we wanted to see them too.  Pullets that were the same costs as chicks, oh by the way he quickly said.  What, the same cost!  Excuse me sir, you must have made a mistake as pullets are always more expensive.  He said wait till you see them.  Oh good grief, these pullets have been attacked. Some were almost completely featherless.  The Kid fell in love.

And I am a sucker.  I took pity on the poor Kid and the crappy week he was having.  We arrived home from the doctor with a new round of medication creme, an over the counter anti-histamine, and four new peepers.  Not having an clue as to how they were going to integrate into the old flock, the old flock was kicked out the coop, the new flock was moved into a dog kennel so they could see around, and immediately plans were developed for housing quarters.  Quarters had to be something quick and temporary as these flufferbottoms already six weeks in age and would double in size quickly.

Upon inspection of the birds in the box, the Planner (who had been warned of their state of affairs) just shook his head and looked at me with pity.  What! Like you could have resisted the Kid any more than me?  Please.  Besides, their issues are only cosmetic.  They will look better. Later.  Maybe...

Two walls of the coop are the actual run itself.  The third wall uses some of the remaining re-purposed outside decking from the shower project.  Spacing between the slats of the deck boards allowing the chickens to interact with each other but not enough room for escape was judged with the thickness of a 2x4.  The fourth wall was from the winter rye seeder.  This fourth wall was easily removed so water and pellet feeders could be replenished daily. Within less than an hour, a temporary 4x4 coop was built.  From start to finish, an hour.  Never has a project at Plan473 taken this little of time.  Guinness Books this project time line.  If all projects could be completed with this ease and within this time frame, there would be lots more projects completed.

Somewhere over the course of a year and half since last usage, the Gatorade Water bottle was lost.  What made the Gatorade bottle remarkable was the hefty handle system.  If this water bottle is going to have to be used for more than a few weeks, the handle will break as it bends and sags with the weight of just a half gallon.  After corralling and a quick adjustment to the pellet PVC feeder built during the original Chicken Boot, the new peepers were set in their temporary home.

Trying not to feel pity for their state of affairs, I had to be reminded they are just chickens and that this parched, bare housing is short lived.   No chicken swing, no brightly colored exterior color to bring happiness, no fresh grass to scratch.  Poor pitiful existence.  Funny thing about pity, it is a feeling.  Therefore pity only affects the person who feels it, not the person being pitied upon.  Guess the chickens don't feel pity.  No pity party for them.