Weathervane Finally Finds a Home

by admin | May 2, 2025 7:52 am

More than 40 years ago, I bought a copper weathervane from a fellow in San Augustine who had opened an antique store of sorts. I say “of sorts” because the weathervane was brand new when I bought it, for perhaps $20. The same guy, over the five years I spent there running The Rambler newspaper, sold me a handsome book cabinet that houses my collection of presidential biographies and other histories. It now anchors a corner of the living room. I also bought a massive blueprint cabinet that is down in the shop, filled with my late dad’s artwork and my photographs.

That rooster weathervane, made of copper, now sports a burnished patina after four decades outside. It also has a lot of miles on it. Since 1984, it has moved with me from San Augustine to Kilgore, Fort Stockton, Lufkin, Nacogdoches, Longview, Junction City (Kansas), Cedar Park, Austin, and finally back to Longview. For the past four years, it has been inconspicuously attached to our backyard chain-link fence here at Three Geese Farm.

[1]For the first time, the weathervane is proudly perched in its intended spot – atop our newly built and painted chicken coop. The coop was built in January by a talented father-and-son team of carpenters. Their skill and precision were far superior to mine and well worth the investment.

But construction was just the beginning. We paid to have a chain-link fence put around it, adjacent to the side of our backyard, so the chickens can roam outside without fear of predators. I built a barrier of hardware cloth covered in limestone rock – which becomes concrete-like once it settles – around the perimeter of the fence, again to prevent burrowing predators.

A retired county agent buddy paid a visit after the coop was built and advised insulating the roof. I bought rigid sheets of insulation and attached 1×2 boards to them. With the help of our nephew Connor, who is at least a head taller than me, we insulated the roof inside last week. The temperature difference is markedly noticeable. An electrician and our handyman added an outlet and water spigot. The final step before actually acquiring the four laying hens is to lay down a thick carpet of pine shavings and buy some feed. Any day now, we will acquire a quartet of laying hens.

This is my second foray into raising chickens, the first coming about the time I bought that weathervane. My oldest daughter, Kasey, wanted to raise chickens as a 4-H project. I built a modest coop on the top of a hill near our house outside of San Augustine. With the sage advice of the aforementioned county agent, we brought home seven broilers for her to raise – with Dad’s assistance, or course. (These were all broilers – raised for meat – not laying hens.) The night before the poultry judging at the annual livestock show, I had the unenviable task of bathing chickens so they would be fluffy and white.

We picked the top three to show out of the seven we had started with as chicks. At the livestock show, Kasey nervously held a chicken in each hand – upside down because it allegedly calms them. I held the third chicken. The poultry judge came by and felt each chicken’s breast, inspected their faces and feet. To our great surprise, Kasey’s chickens won Grand Champion and sold at auction for several hundred dollars. The buyer, a friend named Dave Husband who owned the local liquor store, didn’t want the chickens so they came home. I soon found someone willing to slaughter and dress them for a buck apiece. Those birds made for some fine grilled chicken. Kasey would have no part of eating the chickens she had once raised. I was not that sentimental.

This newest venture is for egg production and because, well, we like critters. The chickens will live their lives in comfort and safety, spoiled silly by my BMC. It is likely we will be foisting farm-fresh eggs on everyone we know. I have already read two books on raising chickens to prepare. That should come as no surprise.

The chickens already have names, but that is best saved for another story, after they arrive. You know what they say about counting your chickens before they hatch.

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