Friday, March 26, 2010

Running a 10k race, with a pitchfork.

From the country…

So yesterday we wore make shift dust masks and ratty clothes. With torn shirts around our mouths and noses, Mark told the kids we were robbing a bank. The sad truth was we were getting ready to clean the ol’ chicken coop (although robbing a bank sounds much more entertaining…).

I prepared myself mentally the night before; going over the hours we would spend shovelling shit (literally), the arguments we would have stemming from the fact that I wanted to bail half way through, the stench of 1 years worth of ripe chicken poop, and the sore achy muscles I would have the next day.

What kept me going were the feelings of satisfaction I would have and the reward of not having to do it again (until next spring anyway) and a gleaming chicken coop just waiting for new life.

Today I wore wear my achy muscles like a badge. I might have been a bit whiny and a midday bath was needed, but we did the dirty deed and it’s done. We have happy chickens (although Turkey Tom hasn’t changed his demeanour…), a clean coop that smells of pine, an impressive pile of manure waiting to turn itself into usable compost and an amazing sense of accomplishment. I would compare this barnyard feat to running a 10k race, with a pitchfork

What’s next? Well, I am gonna stumble up the stairs like a drunken sailor, pile the quilt on top of my sore bones, snuggle right down (yep, I am an avid snuggler) and get some shut eye.


  1. Something that I must do shortly as well. And not looking forward to it either. I do like when it's done and they are once again bedded in clean shavings and that wretched stink (the stink that would knock a buzzard off a poop wagon) is gone.

  2. I miss many a thing living in the city; fresh eggs, privacy, country walks but I absolutely do not miss cleaning out the chicken coop. Worst job ever.

    Good on you for getting it done.



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