Surprises
On my property in North Carolina there stood an old tobacco barn. It was still in very good condition. It was two story in the central part with two lean-to sections on either side and a one story section on the back.
The right side lean-to I used as a garage for my SUV.
The back side I made into a hen house. It was the best hen house I ever had as it was the perfect size for my small flock. It had electricity so I was able to have a timer on the light as well as a heat lamp over the waterer in winter. On one wall I erected a pole roost with a shelf beneath which made it easy to clean up droppings. Another innovation which made cleaning very easy was a loose board in the floor in one corner which I lifted daily and raked out the soiled shavings. They fell to the underneath of the barn which was raised on cement blocks.
From outside it was simple to remove the debris to a wheelbarrow and to the compost.
This was a great innovation-until a very large black snake discovered it. I like black snakes. They are good mousers and also keep the venomous snakes like cotton mouth away. I had a
black snake who lived beneath the house and who often sunbathed on my tiny cement patio at the kitchen door.
The one who discovered the easy entry to the hen house was a bit larger. How he figured out to push up the loose board and gain access to the interior I don't know. But he also figured out that when a hen cackled it meant a fresh hot egg in the nest box at the end of the roost. He often beat me to the egg.
On the left side of the barn, that lean-to area had been used for a pair of mules. There was a shelf with pieces of harness hanging above it. On the shelf was a large wooden chest. One afternoon when I was still exploring all the wonders of my new home, a neighbor and I decided to open the wooden chest. It had a latch on the front of a heavy domed lid. In one lower corner there was a small hole which led us to believe a mouse had lived there for a time. As Kevin lifted the lid there was a loud hiss and a long row of teeth to greet us. Inside was a possum, and when she stood we saw her pouch was full. She was a mother, probably very recently so, and had taken shelter
inside the chest to give birth.
But how did she get in the chest? The hole seemed far too small for her to fit through and she could not possible have opened the latch, gotten in, and closed it again.
Or could she? We left the lid open and walked away, leaving her in peace. I checked a day later and she had moved on.
Unlike a cat who has to move her babies one at a time, Mrs. Possum carried her bumble bee size infants in her warm pouch,
all at one time.
Nature always has a surprise.
The right side lean-to I used as a garage for my SUV.
The back side I made into a hen house. It was the best hen house I ever had as it was the perfect size for my small flock. It had electricity so I was able to have a timer on the light as well as a heat lamp over the waterer in winter. On one wall I erected a pole roost with a shelf beneath which made it easy to clean up droppings. Another innovation which made cleaning very easy was a loose board in the floor in one corner which I lifted daily and raked out the soiled shavings. They fell to the underneath of the barn which was raised on cement blocks.
From outside it was simple to remove the debris to a wheelbarrow and to the compost.
This was a great innovation-until a very large black snake discovered it. I like black snakes. They are good mousers and also keep the venomous snakes like cotton mouth away. I had a
black snake who lived beneath the house and who often sunbathed on my tiny cement patio at the kitchen door.
The one who discovered the easy entry to the hen house was a bit larger. How he figured out to push up the loose board and gain access to the interior I don't know. But he also figured out that when a hen cackled it meant a fresh hot egg in the nest box at the end of the roost. He often beat me to the egg.
On the left side of the barn, that lean-to area had been used for a pair of mules. There was a shelf with pieces of harness hanging above it. On the shelf was a large wooden chest. One afternoon when I was still exploring all the wonders of my new home, a neighbor and I decided to open the wooden chest. It had a latch on the front of a heavy domed lid. In one lower corner there was a small hole which led us to believe a mouse had lived there for a time. As Kevin lifted the lid there was a loud hiss and a long row of teeth to greet us. Inside was a possum, and when she stood we saw her pouch was full. She was a mother, probably very recently so, and had taken shelter
inside the chest to give birth.
But how did she get in the chest? The hole seemed far too small for her to fit through and she could not possible have opened the latch, gotten in, and closed it again.
Or could she? We left the lid open and walked away, leaving her in peace. I checked a day later and she had moved on.
Unlike a cat who has to move her babies one at a time, Mrs. Possum carried her bumble bee size infants in her warm pouch,
all at one time.
Nature always has a surprise.
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