Chapter 3

My brain is swimming with ideas for the chicken coop, and my muscles ache a bit after all that work. I drink lots of fresh water with a quick breakfast yecch - I mean, pack.

I inspect the rock and dirt outcroppings, poking about, to find an area that's not as firm as some other places.

Wow! A place almost straight up! This is perfect. A short version of a miner's tunnel, right here, will keep the chickens somewhat dry.

With the square nose shovel, I mark the outline of the chicken coop onto the hill face. I dig out a hole the size of a large walk in closet. Well, not as high, but about five feet high, five feet wide, and about three feet back into the dirt wall.

Is this not the hardest work I've done in my life? Thank goodness for the fresh water of the creek and another little bag of crap — I mean, meal pack — to keep my energy up.

The larger pieces are for the frame, and the smaller pieces will screen off the sides and top. I strip the branches and lay them in piles in order of size.

I neaten the larger pieces and cut them into appropriate lengths for the frame, checking each piece for how it will fit as part of the frame of the coop in the hole. I square the ends with an adz, but only in places where they will connect to the other frame parts. I lay out the frame pieces on the ground as if the coop was unrolled. The bottom frame pieces are closest to the hole, and the back is farthest away.

I take a quick break, a little splash of water and about five minutes of gentle stretches to loosen up my muscles.

I create some dowels from a few remaining dead fall branches. I hammer them one by one through a dowel plate, a one-half inch thick section of boiler plate with various sized holes drilled in it. I use the half inch hole to form some half inch round dowels. The green wood of the frame will tighten around the cured dowels as the green wood cures, making for strong joints on the chicken coop.

I assemble the frame with dowels, checking periodically to make sure it fits in the hole. I walk the frame into and out of the hole several times, and leave it outside the hole when I am satisfied with the fit. I admit to taking it back in one last time so I could make diagonal braces to stabilize it.

I split the smaller trees into half-rounds using a maul and a couple of wedges. I cut a baseline piece for the back and sides, and another baseline piece for the top. Then I cut a whole bunch at a time, and fasten these

I fasten the smaller ones vertically to the frame with the dowels, but only the back and the sides and the top, and work the framework into the hole. I walk it back into the hole one last time as the sun shimmies closer to the horizon.

I wash up and eat another damn meal pack. Work is exhilarating, and uses much of my energy, so sleep comes fast tonight.

I feel much better today. I guess I'd better build some shelves for inside the coop. Gotta let those chickens roost off the ground level of the coop. Some half boards lain across the framework are just the trick for this. I'm sure glad I remembered those horizontal frame pieces!

I create three panels to cover the coop front, each of which can serve as a door. I build the doors on the ground, and hinge the doors to the frame with wire at the floor level. A rope goes between the boards to tie the doors in their upright positions. Any of these doors can be lowered to act as a ramp to the coop.

I will find some straw to lay over the dirt beneath the coop, it will be easier to gather the droppings for the garden next year.

Well, now, what about water getting in there? Over the coop, I fashion a crude roof of wood, mud, and sod. It looks like the hill has a hairy lip to protect the coop.

I practically inhale my lunch; I'm getting tired of this tasteless crap.

I set four fence posts to form a 10-foot square yard around the front of the chicken coop, and about six feet high to keep out most predators. It isn't big and it isn't much, but it is adequate for the small number of chickens I plan to raise - for now.

I run string around the posts as guide lines. Centered on one side, I set two posts about two feet apart, where the gate will go.

I realize that the dogs will be as good of an alarm system as any. Well, the dogs are going to need a shelter, too, not just the chickens. Heck, even I want more than just my tent to keep me dry and warm.

Too bad. I need a break after all this work. As I sit down to yet another instant flavorless meal, I contemplate a little exploration tomorrow and maybe — just maybe — something a little different to eat. I clean up at the creek and crawl into my sleeping bag.

When I get up, I decide I need a bath. I strip down and head down the creek a ways to a deep spot I have seen and wade slowly out into the water. It is about three feet deep or so and decidedly cold. I use a bar of unscented olive oil soap to scrub down. After I get out and dry off, I feel much better.

This beard is driving me absolutely nuts. It is growing in and I have been letting myself go a bit. I go to the tent and put on a fresh outfit of Cammy clothes. I strap on the knives and grab the bow and a few incidentals I may need. I decide to hunt hungry; that should give me a sense of urgency.

Walking along, I think about how to find game. Shoot! Maybe I'm doing this the hard way. I sit down and think "computer on" and the two displays pop up in my left eye. I think about seeing ahead of as if I'm walking forward, and I zoom forward a ways with my mind's eye. I check the area of brush where I spooked the small buck several days ago, and it is empty except for the rabbit. I think forward to the top of the hill, and next thing I know, I'm feel like I'm up there. As I get near the top, I turn around and look down into my valley to see if I can spot anything moving below.

I wish I can see a bird's eye view, and abruptly everything starts moving real fast as scenery flies by on the viewer. I now actually have a bird's eye view. Is this coming from a satellite or what? I can sure see more from up here. I think about seeing a larger area and I find myself at several thousand feet. It's like those out of body experiences I never wanted to try.

Just west of my location I see an almost identical valley with an even wider valley floor. It's grassy, and reminds me of waving fields of grain. Maybe it is some kind of grain. Hmm, food?