I'd never built a run before. Knew nothing of chickens. Wasn't a member Backyard of Chickens then. Wife wanted chickens.
So having ordered the 6 chickens, my wife asked me to build a chicken "run".
I asked my wife, "How big do you want this chicken run?"
She said, "Well... imagine you're a chicken."
I had never imagined I was a chicken before.
Well, sober anyway.
So I built this chicken run 8 feet high and 16 feet long, up against the woodshed, covered from above and every directions with chicken wire. I put in a jungle jim (tree limbs) for the hens, places to admire the world from. It's the Hilton Hotel of chicken runs.
I dug a trench all the way around it and put the wire down and poured cement on the wire. It don't know how many fence nails it took, perhaps a half million.
The day before we got the chickens, while my wife and I were at dusk admiring the new chicken run, a red fox ambled across the lawn and looked at the run, before trotting off. A big hawk flew overhead the day before. We live out in the mountains of East Tennessee, and there must be a predator newspaper they all subscribe to, or maybe one of 'em just can't keep it to themself.
I had dug up the soil in the run and had put a lot of compost in so there would be worms, and I had planted grass. And the grass had grown green and lush and looked great.
For a while that is.
Then the 6 hens got there.
Now there's no grass at all.
Maybe if there's a moral to the story, it's be wary when someone asks you to imagine you're a chicken. Ask 'em the price of fence nails. Look around to see if an owl or a racoon is listening. There's more things in heaven and earth than in your chicken-sized imagination, Horatio. Log on to Barnyard Chickens and ask somebody with experience, maybe you will learn something.