i cannot be held accountable for the crazy ideas i come up with.

The time has come, at long last, to evict the eldest chickens from the barn.

Unfortunately, I have yet to secure living quarters that will allow said poultry the opportunity to cluck and scratch about in the great outdoors.

The temptation exists, of course, to simply turn them out in the barnyard. "How rustic!" people may think. "What lovely, free range birds you will have!"

Which is true - it would certainly be rustic, and I would love for them to have the chance to wander freely about the yard. But I want them to survive the night: were I to turn sixteen chickens out into the wild I expect that three or four would be left come morning.

The coyotes and owls, on the other hand, would be looking sleek, smug, and sated after their delightful chicken dinner.

And so dear reader, the time has come for me to build a chicken coop.

Which is a thought that makes those who know me shudder in fear.

There are, sadly, many who can tell you tales of my ineptitude in the building arts. I can measure a board five times and still cut it too short. I have yet to hang a picture or a shelf level. Square corners have so far eluded me, and I expect that they will continue to do so for some time.

It's as though, whenever I try to build something, I become constructionally disabled. (Is that a word? I don't think it so. But I digress)

For this project, though, I'm taking a different tack.

You see, I'm not going to use wood.

In fact, I'm not going to use anything that requires great precision and/or skill at all.

And no, I'm not going to step out and buy a shed.

Instead, my friends, I intend to build a chicken house out of cob.

"Um... Stu," you say, "you really don't need to go making up stories to hide your pathetic carpentry skills."

Dear reader, that hurts. To think you believe I would go to such great lengths to hide my shame.

Cob - that old timey clay-sand-and-straw mix that so many of the world's buildings are built of - is the perfect medium for someone like myself to work with.

Why, you ask.

I will tell you: A) It's incredibly cheap. Dirt cheap one might say. Possibly because it's made of dirt; B) There are no boards involved, therefore nothing to cut too short; C) I don't know anybody who has used the stuff before. As a result, no one will be able to point out my mistakes.

And so, dear reader, I must take my leave. I've a lot of planning to do if I'm going to build this earthen masterpiece soon.

I need to dig the foundation.

I need to accumulate supplies.

I need to convince the chickens to stop giving me that exasperated look.

Regards, and enjoy the last Thursday in June.