Weasels Are Smaller Than You Think
ABOUT A YEAR AFTER WE STARTED RAISING CHICKENS, we experienced our first major predator attack. Eight little “teenagers,” chickens about nine weeks old, were killed in their coop one night. Since we were closing them in their coops at night, we had assumed they would be safe. After the initial shock and disbelief eased a bit, we tried to figure out what had happened, as we had no idea what had killed the birds, or how it had gotten into the coop. Everything looked all right from the outside, but inside the coop, all eight of the birds were obviously dead, and it was a bloody mess.
We concluded that it had to have been a weasel. At the time, we had twenty-one young turkeys, as well as several broods of chicks, and apparently this had attracted the attention of some of the local bad boys. I remember being amazed to learn that a weasel can get through a space as small as one square inch. Obviously, weasels are smaller than I thought. The only weasel we’ve seen around here is the tiny Least Weasel; picture a jumbo hot dog with a tail, and you’ll have a pretty good idea of how small this creature is.
At that point, I was beating myself up pretty hard for not knowing this earlier. It’s all very well, I thought, to learn from my mistakes — I had built the coop in question — but it was horrible to learn that lesson at the expense of those innocent little lives. It was very difficult to keep from imagining what it must have been like for them; in the dark, not knowing what was happening, only that a destructive force was in the coop, rampaging its way around the roosts until every last bird was dead. Ugh.
That same day, I spent about two hours going over and over that coop, making sure that there was no space left that even approached one inch wide. However, the first night after that when different birds were in that coop overnight was nerve-racking for me. I made up my mind to work hard at learning all I could about designing and building coops that would meet the birds’ need for safety, health and comfort.
I’m still learning.
I’ve noticed in poultry yards that I’ve visited, as well as in magazine photos, how many coops seem to be more or less slapped together out of whatever scrap materials are on hand. I don’t say that critically, but merely to point out the real problem: It’s hard to find, especially locally, a decent coop for sale. Even if you do find one, it’s expensive, and not very likely to be the right size for the number of chickens you need to house. Many of the coops I’ve seen at local feed stores are only large enough for three or maybe four adult chickens.
So for us, and probably for many of you as well, the best option seems to be to build your own coop. There are plenty of plans out there, and even entire books on the subject (see Appendix B). But what if those plans are for coops that are bigger or smaller than you need? Maybe you only have a few chickens now, but you think you might have more at some point in the future. What are some general guidelines for good coop design?
In my experience, two things are essential for ensuring the health and well-being of your poultry, no matter how many you have. One, keep those feeders and drinkers clean. Two, make sure you give them plenty of room.
The first of these guidelines is self-explanatory. The second covers more ground. By plenty of room, I mean floor space inside the coop; room to move around, flap their wings, dust-bathe and scratch and peck outdoors without stepping on another bird in the process; plenty of feeder space and adequate roost space and for the number and size of your birds.
If you have ever raised day-old chicks, you probably know that, by the time they reach about four or five weeks old, they start looking around for something to roost on. But there’s more to providing roosts than simply nailing a dowel in place. Here are some guidelines.
First, how much roost space do you need? This depends on how many birds you have and which breeds they are. Larger birds need bigger and stronger roosts, as well as enough space for them to sit comfortably side by side. A common mistake is not making the roosts big enough. The diameter must be large enough so that your chickens’ feet don’t curl all the way around. When chickens roost, they settle down on their feet, covering their toes with their feathers to keep them warm. If their toes go all the way around and under the roost, they won’t be completely covered by that nice down blanket. This can lead to frostbitten toes in cold weather. (More about this in Chapter 31.)
There is no rule that says roosts need to be round. We have had good results using two-by-two and two-by-four lumber for roosts. Two-by-twos (actually 1½-by-1½ inches) work well for most chickens. We use two-by-fours (1½-by-3½ inches) for turkeys, with the narrow side up when the birds are young. Turkeys, even smaller breeds like the Midget White, have large feet and long toes, and they need strong support when roosting. When they get older, we turn the two-by-fours so the wide side is facing up.
And what about bedding? For the first few years, we used straw, which is readily available and generally cheap. Combined with poultry manure, it makes a valuable addition to a compost system. We recently ran up against an issue with straw, though, when we applied for organic certification. It seems the rules (in Washington State) say that straw used for bedding must be certified organic. The problem was I couldn’t find any organic straw for sale anywhere near our farm. After spending quite a bit of time on the phone and the Internet, I found the closest source was nearly two hours away, including the ferry ride. For the amount of straw that we used, and considering our limited storage space, I couldn’t figure out a way to make it cost-effective to go this far to buy it.
So, reluctantly, I began to consider alternatives. At this point, the best option we’ve found that meets the organic standards is wood shavings, sold as pine or “white” shavings. As long as they are from untreated wood, this complies with organic requirements; it’s relatively inexpensive and easy to work with.
Since late summer of 2012, we have been using white shavings for bedding in our coops. It’s a little too soon to know for sure how it compares as far as composting goes. I would much rather be able to use straw in the nest boxes, as the chickens seem to find it easier to make nests in straw; they also tend to kick the shavings out of the nest boxes. I’m hoping that they will get used to the shavings, though. I do believe that the shavings are more absorbent than straw, a major point in their favor for me. They also seem to be a little easier to rake out of the coops than straw; straw tends to mat down and turn into a soggy, heavy clump, and the shavings appear to stay a little looser. I must admit I like using the shavings for bedding more than I had expected.
After much experimentation with coop design, I’ve come up with an idea that has worked really well for us. It consists of three parts: A simple coop, with adjustable roosts, a side door for easy cleaning and the option to add a nest box; a lightweight run that can be pushed right up against the front of the coop; and a “trolley,” a wheeled run sized to hold the coop and the lightweight run. We’ve found this to be a really simple, flexible system capable of accommodating chickens of all ages.
Here’s how it works. When we brood chicks indoors, we need a transitional coop to house them for a couple of weeks when they are moved outside. We put the coop on the ground, set up the beginners’ roosts, hang a Coleman lantern if the nights are cold, and it makes a dandy brooder. After a few days, or sooner depending on the weather and how well-feathered the chicks are, we push the light run up to the coop and open the door to give the chicks access to fresh air and grass. We move the coop and run every day so they are always on clean grass. You might be surprised how quickly even little birds can graze down the grass and make their yard a big poopy mess.
Four-week-old pullets.
Once the chicks are six weeks old or so, we lift the coop and run up onto the trolley. At this point, the coop system looks like a chicken tractor. It’s easy to move; the coop is up off the ground and secure from predators. Both ends of the trolley are removable, so when the birds are big enough to free-range, we take them off during the day and the birds can come and go as they please. The coop is designed so that, by simply removing two boards at the back, a nest box can be quickly added when the pullets reach laying age.
Some of our coops are stationary; most of them are mobile. I’ve gotten better at designing and building coops over the past few years, but there are lessons yet to be learned. I’ve never forgotten what I learned as a result of that weasel attack. We know that, short of keeping the birds constantly confined, we won’t always be able to prevent losses. But we’re working hard to keep them as safe as we can.
Ramps or Platforms?
The first year we had chickens, we lost two laying hens. I discovered the first, lying dead under the coop overhang, one day when collecting eggs. Of course, I had not the slightest idea what had killed the poor bird, but it was obvious something had. Except for her head and neck, which were bloody and torn up, I couldn’t see any other sign of injury. We talked about it a bit, and buried the hen.
The next day, once again out collecting eggs, I lifted the nest box lid and surprised a very small skunk, caught in the act of dispatching another laying hen, right on her nest. Unfortunately the bird was already dead, and the nest box was a bloody mess. Fortunately I didn’t get sprayed by the skunk.
This was upsetting, and not just for the obvious reason. I admit, to that point, I had been somewhat complacent regarding predators; this was the first time we had lost any chickens to them. I had assumed that, other than hawks and eagles, all potential predators were nocturnal hunters. Since we closed up the birds in their coops at night, I took it for granted that they were safe.
Additionally, it was clear that the skunk had simply walked right up the handy ramp into the coop and into the nest box behind the roost area. The type of skunk we have here, the Spotted Skunk, is much smaller than the common striped skunk. It never occurred to us that something like a skunk would just walk right into the coop like that.
We solved the problem by taking away the ramp and replacing it with a platform attached to the coop in front of the door. The birds only have to fly (more like a jump, actually) up sixteen inches to the platform, but this height is too much for the little skunks to reach.
This was one of those lessons that we learned the hard way about keeping our birds safe. Fortunately it was a quick and easy fix. Still, it was our first loss to predators here, and a tough lesson it was.
