Hen Chronicles: Helping the coop cope with winter winds

After close to three years of visiting our small chicken coop at least twice a day, and usually more often than that, I thought I knew every inch of this wood-and-metal abode for the feathered set.

Nope.

We’ve had plenty of winter storms since we were foolish enough to acquire three hens back in 2012, but not very many blizzards. One such descended on central Maine with a vengeance several weeks ago, dropping what seemed like a ton of snow and sending the white stuff flying every which way in 50 mile-per-hour winds.

It was those winds that revealed a design flaw in the coop.

I had always found that the interior of the coop remained dry during a snowstorm. So I was appalled, during that blizzard back in January, when I lifted the lid on the nest box at the back of the coop and found a layer of snow coating about three square feet of bedding.

Nothing like this had ever happened before.

Scooping out the wet pine shavings and replacing them with fresh bedding was easy enough, But how did the snow get in there? And how would I prevent it from happening again during the next big storm?

The lid was intact, with no holes or cracks, so that wasn’t the problem. But when I looked at the nest box from inside the coop, I could see a very thin band of daylight along the outer edge, where lid meets box. There was a narrow horizontal gap there, instead of a tight seal. If the winds were vicious enough, snow could blow up under the lid and into the nest box.

And had, in fact, done just that.

I toyed with several solutions, but sometimes, the easiest is the best. Cutting a piece of foam weatherstripping to length, I stuck it on the outer lip of the nest box and used a few pieces of duct tape to secure it. The ray of light disappeared. And when brutal winds sent fresh snow whipping through the air last Sunday, the box remained dry.

Here’s hoping the coop doesn’t reveal any new secrets until spring, when I can make repairs without worrying about maintaining my body’s core temperature. That’s one department in which our three chickens — Snow, Nellie and Hope — have us beat (although chickens can suffer frostbite on their feet, wattles and combs).

Not only is each of “the girls” decked out in a high-quality coat of feathers, but a chicken’s normal body temperature ranges from 103.6 to 109.9 degrees Fahrenheit. No wonder they handle the worst of winter so much better than I do.