HONEST REQUEST.
I’m looking for a chicken coop inspector….. Not kidding.
This isn’t one of my weird jokes this time.
Yesterday my chicken coop apparently decided it had accomplished everything it wanted in life, got blackout drunk on fermented scratch grain, and laid down in the yard like an uncle after six Busch Lights and a political argument.
One minute it was a respectable piece of poultry real estate.
The next it looked like it was trying to become a basement.
The Hen Den, mid-intervention. Gravity remains undefeated; Dale remains unbothered.
To be fair, the professional moving company who fumbled the coop like a Browns running back immediately offered to make everything right. No complaints there. Stuff happens. Gravity remains undefeated.
But then my phone rings.
“Hey… our chicken coop fell over.”
That’s not a sentence anyone expects to hear. It’s right up there with, “Your goat is in Dollar General,” or, “The horse figured out the gate code.”
So now I’m standing in my yard trying to explain to another grown man that I need emergency chicken assistance
Enter Super Dale Devore.
This man stops cutting out my round pen and switches gears with his skid steer, looks at my sideways poultry subdivision for about five seconds, and has the calm expression of someone who’s seen far stranger things before breakfast.
No panic.
No sales pitch.
No, “Well, that’s interesting.”
Just…
“Let’s stand her back up.”
Meanwhile I’m over there mentally preparing to explain to the insurance company why my chicken coop identified as modern art.
Now here’s where I need your help.
This coop has electrical wiring.
Lights.
Outlets.
Real wiring.
Which means I don’t need someone to tell me it looks okay.
I need someone who can tell me whether the framing shifted, if anything cracked, whether the wiring got pinched, and if it’s actually safe before my chickens become the first flock to discover electrical engineering the hard way.
So if anyone around the Bloomingdale area knows a builder, electrician, structural engineer, barn expert, retired master craftsman, or someone whose résumé somehow includes “chicken coop inspector,” send them my way.
Because if this thing catches fire, I don’t want my hens remembered as “the original family-sized nuggets.”
And finally, a huge thank you to Dale Devore of Devore Land Mulching.
Some people rescue cats from trees.
Some people pull trucks out of mud.
Dale rescues drunken chicken coops from making life-altering decisions.
The man showed up, straightened out my feathered apartment complex, and quietly went back to work like it was just another Tuesday.
Bloomingdale has a lot of good people.
Today, Dale earned the title…
Protector of the Fluffy Butts. 🫡🐔🌲
Dispatches like this one are being collected in What The F(arm): Sixty Dispatches from an Unqualified Ohio Farmer — $40, half of which turns straight into hay for the horses, the mini donkey, and the baby goats. The presses roll when 100 people pre-order.