Whenever somebody at work is about to throw something away, he smirks and asks me if I need it for my chickens. My reaction varies, depending on my mood, the degree of smirk, and whether or not I actually do need the object for my chickens. My birds now live with a level of comfort they wouldn't have if the resourceful wheels weren't turning in my head every time I come across a piece of junk. They get full body DE baths in the giant Rubbermaid that I found one day, they don't spill food out of the handy feeders I made from bottles, and they each park it every night on their favorite rung of an old wooden ladder that is no longer safe for human ascension. The nicest, most expensive nest box in the world won't keep my national champion Serama pullet from escaping her pen to lay her egg on the lid of an old bucket every day! I have big plans for my money; paramedic school, moving to a milder climate, etc., and the birdies don't mind their junk one bit!