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I’m up with the chickens every day. I hear them clucking and crowing and jostling each other at the door to the chicken yard, eager to burst outside for the day.
Our chicken house security has been expanded to a double-lock system on the little door between the chicken yard and house.

The little peg pulls out, but for fear that might be simple enough for raccoon-thinking, a more difficult lock was added. It takes some manipulation and some strength to open this second lock.
Once both locks are off, the latch on the door releases. The door is lifted up using a pulley.

The pulley is tied to hold the door open. I love this little system because I can do it all from outside the chicken yard.

More security updating was done this weekend after I discovered this hole torn in the chicken wire that goes around the top of the chicken house (for ventilation). Something had been trying to break in and get my chickens!

As you can see, new and stronger hardware cloth has been nailed over the chicken wire all around the chicken house.
Nothing’s gonna get my chickens! Even if they are kinda scary lookin’.

I don’t want anything getting my goats, either. Coco did her part, uncovering several security flaws in the goat enclosure.
Okay, actually, she went AWOL and as a result, we discovered the security flaws.
And discovered Coco napping under my car.
Coco: “I don’t wanna work. I wanna nap. And watch QVC. I’m only three months old. Can’t I do that? WHAT ABOUT MY CHILDHOOD? Aren’t there child labor laws?”

COCO!!!!
Dookie stretched out on the porch, delighting in his perpetual unemployment. “That’s why you get all the attention,” he told Coco. “Go ahead. ENJOY YOUR ATTENTION. WHILE YOU WORK.”
Not that he’s bitter or anything.

In spite of the farm shih tsu, Coco got all embarrassed and sorry about her own behavior.

And back she came to her goats. She may be a livestock guardian dog, but she’s only a giant puppy, too.

Clover said, “Don’t worry, Coco. I like babies. I’ll help you. Come on.”

What about me, Clover? Can I touch your udder? I have cookies.

I’ll take that as a no.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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