Some might say it’s a little excessive. In fact, sometimes, when I gaze out the kitchen window admiringly at my new Taj Mahal of a chicken coop, even I think I might share the sentiment.
 
It didn’t start out that way. Armed with a brand spanking new copy of Building Chicken Coops for Dummies, Weaver was all set to build me a very lovely but practical chicken coop. The problem is, Weaver never got past poring through the book. His busy work schedule, combined with the fact that I had five little chicks living in a dog crate on our front porch that were growing larger by the day, led him to make a rather hasty decision. He turned the chicken coop construction project over to me. That was Weaver’s first mistake.
 
Of course, I don’t have the skills to actually build a chicken coop myself, but after dealing with our year-long house-building project followed by the finishing-the-attic-space project, I felt pretty confident handling the relatively small job of chicken coop general contractor.
 
My first order of business was to hire Les. Les came highly recommended by Mark, the yard guru who helped with the initial landscaping of our property. I like Mark. I imagine that back in the day, he was a genuine hippie of the 70’s but now, he’s just a laid-back landscaping guy with something like 20 kids, 20 different species of animals and the inclination to hang around and chat after completing a job.
 
Until recently, I hadn’t seen Mark in about two years. The only reason he was at the house at all was because I had purchased a few perennials on clearance and had asked Weaver to dig holes to plant them in. Well, Weaver dug the holes all right. He dug the holes so well, in fact, that in doing so he took out our entire outdoor lighting system. For those keeping track, that was Weaver’s second mistake.
 
With Weaver officially fired from anything to do with outdoor lighting or perennial plant holes, my only resort was to summon back to the property the man who installed the lights in the first place.
Sixteen electrical line splices later, we once again had working outdoor lights, plus I had seen pictures of Mark’s favorite dogs and a snake he had found on his property a few days earlier, I had a new source of good birdseed, and . . . I had the name of a man who Mark promised could build a “really cool” chicken coop for an “awesome” price.
 
As it turns out, Les is the polar opposite of Mark. Cynical, quiet, doesn’t talk a whole lot and acts pretty annoyed with, though resigned to, much of what happens in his everyday life.  But what Les and I quickly realized during our brief initial conversation is that we have something in common, and that something is chickens. I rarely meet someone who loves chickens as much as I do, but I recognize a kindred spirit when I meet one, and I found such a person in Les.
 
As soon as we acknowledged our mutual fondness for poultry, we started planning the chicken coop of our dreams. The structure we were planning would not only be pleasing to the eye, it would be a chicken dream come true. Because everyone knows that the happier the hen, the better tasting the egg. Maybe not a scientific fact,per se, but that was the assumption Les and I planned to operate under.
 
The result of our corroboration is a beauty to behold. Where the book advises that 5 chickens will do fine with 10 to 20 square feet of floor space, my fun-loving feathered friends have 144 square feet. Where the book advises 15 to 30 square feet of outdoor space, my gregarious girls enjoy 350 square feet. There are five lovely hay-filled nesting boxes (with easy outdoor access), several indoor perches to choose from, a fashionable linoleum floor for comfort and cleaning ease and a full-sized front door secured by a deadbolt.
 
The exterior of the coop can best be described as cheerful and homey. Painted in a happy turquoise color with garden green and white trim, the house boasts two window boxes filled to overflowing with purple flowers. This past weekend, Weaver even added the cutest little front porch, soon to be flanked by boxwood shrubs. And if my electrician ever decides to keep an appointment and actually show up when he says he will, the chickens will have not only a light inside the coop, but a window fan as well.
 
Yes, it’s true, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I may just have the cutest, most enchanting chicken coop this side of the Mississippi. Some might call it excessive. But Nugget, Drumstick, Floppy Wings, Fluffernutter and Violet — well, they just call it home.