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I’ve waited a long time for a chicken house here! At first, the chickens were roosting on the studio deck and around the porches. I managed to eventually route them to the barn, where they took to roosting on the barn steps and the fences. This was better, but not what I wanted for the final result. I wanted a chicken house–but have been reluctant to spend money on one.
This one is constructed almost completely from salvaged materials or leftover materials from other projects. The back, which nobody will see much, is made of tin.

I have a huge stack of tin roofing sheets that was left here. After roofing the chicken house and covering the back of the house with it (and also covering the goats’ creep feeder with it), I still have plenty left over for other shelters in the fields.

The roosts are the former curtain rods in the studio.

The wire is all leftover wire from fencing, and the rest of the materials are all leftover or salvaged pieces of wood and plywood. I bought the paint, of course.

I’m searching for the right red paint color for repainting the barn next year. I wasn’t satisfied with the red I used on the goat house. I think I’ve found it this time!

I think the chicken house came out absolutely adorable. I love it. It’s trimmed out to match the barn.

It was built over an existing 8 x 8 concrete slab in the barnyard. (Why that slab was there, I don’t know.) It can be SPRAYED out to clean!
Do you notice something?

That’s a little chicken “hand rail” to one side of the ramp. (An Adam and Robbie joke that I liked so much, I told them to leave it.)

This sign is misleading because I didn’t have them add nesting boxes to the house. I free-range my chickens and am perfectly satisfied with picking up eggs around the barn and farm. I don’t want to keep the chickens in the house except from dusk to dawn.
The chicken house is so cute, somebody is a little bit jealous and started head-butting the still-wet house!

“Where’s the white trim on MY house, Woman?!”
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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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