First, let me thank this wonderful site and its many contributors for helping us get started. The resources here are superb, and it was great to have a "go-to" site with all the information you need. We bought a neglected, 50-acre hobby farm in 2007 in Sumner County, TN (about 50 miles NE of Nashville). Since then, we've slowly been mending fences, repairing the barn and working on the workshop. The farmhouse itself was built in the late 1970s entirely out of recovered materials, so each room has its own personality -- the porch is girded with retired railroad timbers; the dining room is the remnants of the old post office; there are dual wood stoves coming off of a large, central stone chimney made from native stone; the bedrooms each have barnwood-paneled walls with distinctively personalities... all of which means we love it, it's gorgeous, and it's nearly impossible to work on since nothing is a standard measure! LOL One of the nice finds on the property was an old, if small (w4' x l6' x h6', with two levels), chicken coop -- also made from old barn wood. We built a 14' x 7' enclosure around the coop. We added a perch near the top of the coop, as well as a couple of nesting boxes on the other side (think two-story duplex). Last year, we christened it with four Rhode Island Red hens. They eat a quality layer feed, along with a little lettuce each day, and the occasional batch of nightcrawlers from the bait shop as a treat. And now, people don't understand when I explain they have names and personalities... We're hooked. And I'll never forget the first egg we tasted... it was an accident. I was in the process of collecting our first six for a nice weekend breakfast, when my clumsy, neophyte hands dropped our third egg, slightly cracking it. I feared it wouldn't keep, so I decided that I'd make a fried egg. There are not words to describe the flavor... it was like the first time I had ever tasted an egg. "Honey! Come try this!" "What is it?" "An egg!" "One of ours?" "YES!" "What does it taste like?" *patter of feet on the stairs* "It... tastes like... perfect," was my less than descriptive reply. The only thing that comes close was the first time I tried honest-to-goodness-right-from-the-cow milk. But that's another story. I've rambled on too long. In short, I'm delighted and thankful to be part of this wonderful group.