Tucker the Terrible: Near tradgedy hits Green Mountain.
The next step was to figure out the best solution for housing. I had no experience with building things and needed something to house them in and needed it fast. They grew like sea monkeys on steroids. I purchased the Chic-N-Hutch and the run that attaches to the front and was not impressed. As soon as I started to unpack it I knew it wouldnt work. Its constructed out of whimpy wood that would maybe last a few weeks in California... in the shade... holding midget bantys. It didnt last two hours in my Washington state garage but that was partially my fault.
I had brain damage that day. I thought it would be OK to run a few errands and let Tucker watch over the chicks. Until that day his experience with them consisted of only curiosity.Curiosity for what was squaking in the big brown box on the table in the garage. He could smell them but couldn't see them. I left to run errands (still not sure where i left my brain) and came back in the middle of the attempted green mountain chicken coop massacre. When I returned there was dog blood everywhere.The dog had peeled back the front of the coop wire and had our new daughters pinned to the back of the cage. The chicks were safe. I am dumb.
(Dear heavenly Father, thank you for protecting us from Tucker the Terrible, we will lay you a golden egg someday. Amen)
The next step was to figure out the best solution for housing. I had no experience with building things and needed something to house them in and needed it fast. They grew like sea monkeys on steroids. I purchased the Chic-N-Hutch and the run that attaches to the front and was not impressed. As soon as I started to unpack it I knew it wouldnt work. Its constructed out of whimpy wood that would maybe last a few weeks in California... in the shade... holding midget bantys. It didnt last two hours in my Washington state garage but that was partially my fault.
I had brain damage that day. I thought it would be OK to run a few errands and let Tucker watch over the chicks. Until that day his experience with them consisted of only curiosity.Curiosity for what was squaking in the big brown box on the table in the garage. He could smell them but couldn't see them. I left to run errands (still not sure where i left my brain) and came back in the middle of the attempted green mountain chicken coop massacre. When I returned there was dog blood everywhere.The dog had peeled back the front of the coop wire and had our new daughters pinned to the back of the cage. The chicks were safe. I am dumb.
(Dear heavenly Father, thank you for protecting us from Tucker the Terrible, we will lay you a golden egg someday. Amen)
