When we got married in our garden three years ago, we bought a bunch of old wine barrels on Trade Me to use as sun umbrella holders and rustic bar leaners. We’ve hacked up a couple since then to make half-barrel planters, but the others have been lined up next to the shed, awaiting their next assignment. Then, a month ago, Jason had the bright idea to flip them on their sides, cut out a front door and a hinged flap on the back… and turn them into hen houses.
As we weren’t sure if the chooks would fancy a round, faintly alcoholic smelling new abode, we started off with this trial barrel, which is casually propped up on sawhorses, at a pig snout-safe height in the orchard, with a bit of 4×2 for a makeshift ramp.
At first, the chooks were distinctly unimpressed. (They’re clearly not fluent in upcycling fashion or shabby chic style.) I watched one of the Silkies wander up the ramp once, but aside from that I haven’t seen any nesting instinct from the rest of them. Indeed, the hay that Jason tucked in to line the barrel has remained squeaky clean (and our chooks aren’t exactly known for their household hygiene standards. The Silkies are a bit too stupid to roost, so they sit on the filthy floor of our old hen house and are crapped on by the brown shavers perched above!)
Anyway, the chooks may not be sleeping in the barrel, but by golly, they’re laying in it! When we lifted the flap yesterday, there were 18 lovely brown eggs – the first of the season – sitting in the hay. 
You know what that means, don’t you? That means spring is officially here. And it also means I’ll have to make a big omelette for dinner, as we can’t fit that many eggs in our fridge door.