the keep

I spent all day Sunday on my knees, replacing the wire on the roost, the chickens' inner sanctum.  I was thankful that I discovered how rust had set it free from it’s earthly bonds (staples) before raccoons swung down in a chariot of fire and not-so-sweetly carried the hens away.

I’ve struggled with my chicken-architecture terminology.  I thought I had settled on coop, roost & yard to describe the homey trinity we have cobbled together with our humble carpentry skills, but as I labored in the unseen light of the waning paschal full moon, I realized I was fortifying the hens’ keep, employing a medieval strategy dating back 1000 years.

Mary & I entered the ancient keep of Marvao as we honeymooned in Portugal 25 years ago, though we thought naught of chickens at the time.  The perfectly-preserved castle rises from one end of a fortified mountaintop village, unprotected by ticket-takers or docents.  We walked through a manicured garden, entering through a narrow slit optimized for defending with lances, and mounted the walls on a narrow stone staircase.  It was a sunny weekday morning, the castle was unoccupied, all we could hear was the wind.  We followed the parapet along the perimeter to a squat tower with a dark doorway.  Through the doorway was a square windowless room, perfect for storing wine, or a desperate last stand.

The hens' keep sits next to a lovely garden. You access it through a gate, though without fear of being lanced.  So it’s a lot like Marvao, except for the medieval village, stone stairway, underground cistern, mountaintop ringed by castle wall, and 360˚ view.

Coo, coo, ca choo.