Dear upstairs neighbor

Dear Upstairs Neighbor:

I didn’t mean it when I told the landlord that I didn’t care about your chickens one way or another but that, after months of them wandering the narrow back courtyard-alley under the fire escapes all day, I would rather them in a chicken coop than out pooping all over the place . I didn’t even phrase it like that. I didn’t even bring up the chicken poop. I didn’t even remark on the chickens last Friday until after it was introduced as a topic–though I had said once previoiusly, months ago, that I thought a coop would be good. Besides, when I envisioned chicken coop I envisioned one of those big wooden ones where they have tons of room to roam around and have a big chicken wire porch where they can enjoy what bit of sun there is back there, and not the cage that all three of them are now sitting in out back the past two days. That’s depressing me! Please, they can’t even walk around in that cage but two steps sideways and forward and I’m feeling it’s my fault for saying I thought they could use a chicken coop. Besides which they can no longer peck at H.o.p.’s feet.

I really hope I’m not at fault for this and instead it’s the other person in the building who’s afraid of avian flu.

Regardless, your chickens are not just depressing me, they’re upsetting me. They’re cramped and it’s raining and it saddens me that they’re sitting in that small cage with their only cover being a mesh window screen held on top by bricks. They’re wet and it’s getting cold. In case you need a reference, this is a chicken coop. Or this. They also come in less expensive, unadorned styles. Like so. Though what I had in mind was larger, if not this big. Some kind of wooden enclosure into which they can retreat from the rain and the elements with the nice sun porch I was mentioning.

Darn my mouth but it never occurred to me the chickens would end up sitting in a small cage in the rain.

Thank you.