Hardwood Floors and Dreaming of Chickens

Projects never cease. Hardwood floors are about halfway done in our basement and even though all of our rooms are full of crap moved out of the way, the results are wonderful! Even two border collies approve.

Border collie wrestling match on the new floors will follow the taking of this photograph.

We have a friend doing the floors while Ron paints and I watch, unsure of how I can help except bake cookies for fuel.

In the meantime I need chickens. And a rooster. Because I want eggs and to hear chirping. But I don't know where to start. Ron and I have picked out a spot in our shop to build a coop and I simply have no idea what to do even with the advice streaming from books, the internet and friends who own chickens already. I have said that I will take on the task of organizing this venture and being neither handy nor crafty, I feel like maybe I was too ambitious at the thought of being in charge of this project. But every time I eat an egg from the the farm up the road, I see no other choice than to raise chickens myself. I need to channel my inner farm girl.

Don't I look like I'm ready to mow some major lawn? Note the sprig of grass (OK maybe a dried weed) hanging from my lips. Serious farm girl action here. Except I only drove about two feet forward and back on our driveway before Ron took over.

Any tips on building a chicken coop as a woman with no carpentry skills are welcome.