The chicken slum is now an art installation after Monday night’s work. Think Watts Towers built by a disorganized poet. It is constructed of a variety of found materials. All I need now are some colorful tiles to spiff it up.
After getting Edsel home Monday morning, I shut her and Muffin back in the hutch and wasn’t even late for work, thanks to a fast sprint across the Park ‘N Ride lot just in time to catch the bus. I spent most of Monday afternoon until past dark shoring up the pen, cutting and nailing up scraps of fencing, using a beaded ribbon belt to weave together the two ceiling pieces where she had flown through a gap. To close the gap above the door, I put up the piece of nylon netting that was used in the back of my car to hold grocery bags. On another side, I nailed up a large sheet of plastic that had covered a new mattress. And so on to block every opening that had existed above flight height for the Poles but not for a banty Modern.
You never know what will come in handy. As a friend in college used to say and the late spouse used to do: never throw anything away. Sadly, I’ve had to throw away too much when moving during the past few years. Other things, such as my reciprocating saw and a 6-ft stepladder, mysteriously disappeared. I try, with limited success, not to think about it.
Thinking all problems temporarily solved, I discovered that Keeper had crawled under the part of the house beneath the mud room and was making desperate clattering and scraping sounds. (to be continued)