Cleaning the Coop Andy’s brother has been visiting from New York this week. Andy has not seen him for 5 years, as residence in South Africa can be slightly inhibiting to random and frequent visitations. Hence, it’s the first time myself and my children have met him as well. And well, Uncle Hessel is most definitely loved! As Mom, I couldn’t imagine a better houseguest, helpful and kind, what more could a host ask for? Building tree forts, trimming trees, harvesting cherry tomatoes, brushing Maeve’s hair, doing dishes, wow! And the children, of course, adore him. Yesterday morning, when we had veggie omelets for breakfast, thoughts of chicken poop and chick coops were probably the last thought crossing his mind as he munched his yummies. If fact, I, myself, was not really thinking chicken coop either. But upon reading my morning to-do list, and being in need of mulch for several garden beds, the chicken coop had to be cleaned. So, after lassoing Hessel from the grunting men fixing trucks on the driveway pavement I issued him mud boots, garden gloves, a pitchfork, a wheelbarrow and detailed instructions as to how the task was to be done. Summer cleaning is never as bad as that first cleaning after the winter months. In the winter it is necessary to leave the composting droppings in the coop to provide heat for the chickens. I made the mistake one year of cleaning the coop in February only to have a massive snowstorm come though and freeze the coop. This was in the early years of chicken rearing and all my chickens subsequently gained colds and dropped dead. Live and learn, don’t clean the coop until spring is well under way, only keep adding layers of fresh straw to keep things clean. This method of providing heat left about 2 feet of wet, composting chicken manure to be cleaned out in the spring. So, with that memory fresh in my head I showed Hessel how to “dig” into the straw in the coop, forgetting, that the straw is not that deep, and that the “floor” of the coop is actually 20-year-old packed and composted horse manure. As the entrance to the coop is narrow and it is difficult for more than one person to pitch shit, I returned to the garden to finish terracing, shaping, furrowing and planting the sweet pea bed. Hessel diligently brought out the first load of cleanings, with a slight sweat meeting his brow he stood at the end of the bed with the full barrow, “right here?” he asks. “Yup, thanks,” I reply. “So how much do I do?” he asks. “All of it I state,” giggling inside, thinking, he’s such a city boy! Hessel returns to the coop to clean and I think about my first time cleaning a chicken coop at Michael Fields Agricultural Institutes. We were brought to the residence of a local farmer where he put us on task. There were 14 of us, but only 7 could pitch at a time because those were all the pick forks to be had, the others hauled barrows and we rotated. We were shown a barn of approximately 50 feet by 30 feet, piled high with 4-5 feet of chicken poop and straw from the winter. Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow we hauled and moved and sweated and rotated jobs. Then we scraped roosts with shovels and filled buckets from under the roosts and we raked it clean and when it was all said and done we stood around the farmer, feeling proud and exhausted. “Thank you,” he said, “normally we use a front end loader to do this job, but it’s such a great learning experience we had you do it by hand.” We all looked at each other, stunned, leaning on forks and shovel, thinking, thank God—for your sake! As Hessel dropped the next load at the end of the bed he asked, “How deep am I supposed to go?” “Just down to the dirt floor,” I reply. “Oh, I imitated what you did with the fork and it goes down into some really hard stuff,” and I realize he was digging out the age-old horse manure! “Oh!” I exclaim, “just the loose straw!” Oops. Sorry Hessel, but thank you for leveling out the floor. Hessel proceeded to mulch the peppers and the kale, after he dropped four barrows at the end of my sweet pea bed. Afterwards I climb up on the roost and scrap the piles of poop from the ledge. We rake the remaining cleanings into buckets for future chicken manure tea and break a clean bale. “Job well done,” I say, “and thanks.” Little did he know he’d have to work for that omelet he had for breakfast. But that’s the way of things on the farm. In fact, extended family on a farm, in history, was not uncommon. Too bad Uncle Hessel won’t stick around. The farm can be inspiring and healing and it’s a beautiful place to share. But in any case, Uncle Hessel is always welcome, next time maybe he’ll work for his goat milk! Smile
Posted on: Fri, 16 Aug 2013 02:29:23 +0000
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