WoodenSpoon

In honour of International Walk like a Pirate Day the chooks went looking for buried treasure. 

Today we nailed on the roof, hung the door and finished the wire netting. Dusk was falling as we rushed throught the final stages, before grabbing the chooks (they have really hot tummies) and liberating them from their tiny bunker into the chook mahal. The cattle came up to see what was going on and the chooks wasted no time in christening their new house. Phwoar.

No more chook posts for a while. I’m over it.

We had a big day of building. Up went the front beams and on went the end-wall weatherboards. Dad found a steel frame ‘gate’ that fits perfectly into the space between the lower and upper beams on the front wall. Later, we asked Dave where it came from and he said it used to be the bench of the dairy. I remembered it then. Its where they washed up after every shift, back in the old days.

The last thing we did was nail on the rafter straps. In the pic you can see one rafter. Getting slose now; just have to make a wire wall for the front, hang the door, nail on the roof and Bob’s your uncle.

The day of the Annual Lismore Poultry Auction has arrived. Early ths morning Dad, Mum and I headed over there on a mission.

Arriving at the Lismore show ground, we found ourselves not just at a poultry auction but in the centre of festivity and commerce going at full tilt. Vintage cars, stalls selling broken old tools, girls (never boys; why is that?) riding ponies, vans selling ‘food’. But no time to linger, we had work to do.

After registering as a bidder, we jostled through the throng of people inspecting the chooks. There were several lots of game fowl on sale. I overherd someone call a particularly large cock (heh) by the name ‘velociraptor’. And rightly so. I didn’t manage to get a pic, being too busy trying to see all the contenders before the sale started. I met a fellow called Mr Carter, who of course has known Doug Hogan — Dad’s cousin, owner of the “Hogan’s Heroes” pub and champion breeder of Rhode Island Reds and Barred Plymouth Rocks — since they were boys in short pants. He gave me some pointers on how to tell the age of a bird by the length of its spurs. Short spurs=young bird. Makes sense.

The call went up that the sale was starting so everybody trooped across to the saleroom. The auctioneer was a cheeky fellow who was happy to dish out a bit of ribbing to anyone he knew, and he seemed to know everybody. Mum and I kept notes on the price of each lot, as we waited for the first of my ‘possibles’, lot 37, to come up. When it was called, there was a some brisk bidding, to $60. I thought I had it and pointed at my chest as confirmation. “Seventy dollars!”, shouted the auctioneer and lowered his pointing finger slightly; he’d been pointing at someone behind me. And that was that. In one bid I’d bought my first fowls, Lot 37 - a trio of large Black and Red Australian Game Fowl. I was happy with the price.

Afterwards, I told Doug I’d bought some chooks, so he came and looked them over. He asked the price, asked who was the vendor, then said, “They’ll do you well. They’re not great birds [from a showing perspective] but they’re fit for purpose. It’s horses for courses.”

I’m happy with them. They look fit and well. The rooster’s golden collar and burnished blue-black wings shine in the sun and the pullets have even brown plumage and good body shapes. They were fairly quiet in the car on the trip back home. Any fears we might have had for their health were dispelled as soon as we transferred them to the coop. They immediately started gorging themselves on grain from the feeder.

So, now its out of my good town clothes, back into the work gear and back tot the chook mahal. Gotta get it finished!

The chook ched is going well, if a little more slowly than hoped-for. I’m kinda making it up as I go along, but Dad and Uncle Dave are providing valuable assistance and mostly valuable advice.

I wasn’t quite sure how to do the roof, so I thought we’d have a go at the back wall, which is to be solid weatherboards. Not too much to go wrong there. It’s looking good. Tomorrow is chook auction day, so the new house won’t be quite ready. We have a small temporary coop for them and their presence should give us an impetus to complete the chook mahal.

Part 2 of the exciting saga (which commenced here).

We couldn’t get the tractor started, so using the auger to dig post holes was not an option. Uncle Dave suggested we use the old fashioned method and actually dig the holes. And so we did. Using the post-hole spade (a very narrow-bladed spade with a steel handle) to chip away at teh floor of teh hole and a shovel to dig out the debris. By alternating we soon had two quite deep holes.

The next day we got the tractor started (yay) so we used it to lift the sleepers into place in the holes.

Next I dug trenches between the posts and installed corrugated iton sheet to act as formwork for the concrete floor and to give that **** off fox look that is de rigeur in chook coop construction.

We’re currently attaching the beams; the weatherboard walls go on next. But this afrvo I’m off to town to get some cement and some nails etc.

It occurred to me that if I buy some chooks at the auction, I’ll need a way to stop them flapping around the car on the way home. Dad suggested a hessian bag; that was what they used in the old days, apparently.

This is my solution:

     Starting out with some bits of wood and wire… and the completed box, ready for chook transport duties.

My first farm contruction project is a chicken coop. It will be a ‘lean-to’, attached to the side of the cattle yards. A pair of railway sleepers will be the end posts. The rear and side walls will be weatherboard. The roof will be a skillion style, made of corrugated iron. The front wall will be 2″ chicken wire. Most if not all the materials will be recycled from the old dairy and other old structures on the property.

      The first sod, and the view from the site.

The Lismore Poultry Auction is on Sun 24th Aug, so I’ve got my work cut out to get it finished in time!