For everyone who’s ever searched “how to start a business” and ended up elbow-deep in hemp bedding, building their first chicken coop.
This one’s for you.

Starting something from scratch — a business, a coop, a community — never quite follows the guide. The ground shifts. The parts don’t fit. The chickens arrive early.

You begin with a plan. You stay for the pivots.

This essay isn’t just about strategy — it’s about soil.
Not just structure — but soul.

1. Romantic Blueprints vs. Real-Life Gravel

Every coop (and every company) begins with an immaculate vision: 3D renderings. Frictionless funnels. Chickens that apparently never poop.

You download a playbook and the Beginner Coop Builder PDF — pages of pastel infographics and heroic promises.

Then you step outside with a tape measure and realize: the ground slopes like a philosophical question.

Your first executive decision? Move the whole plan three feet to the left to avoid burying the compost pile.

Congratulations: you’ve pivoted.

Business translation: Your day never matches the vision on paper. Build for the yard you have, not the render workflow.

2. The Craft Spirit (Or, Why I Keep Sanding)

I got a degree in ceramics with a focus on Japanese craft. In Japan, shokunin doesn’t just mean “artisan” — it’s a posture of devotion. Refine, refine, refine until the medium and the soul are intimately aligned.

I try to channel that when the coop door sticks — for the seventh time — and I’m tempted to solve it with a hammer instead of a hinge adjustment.
The chickens deserve a door that whispers open, not one that screams.

Business translation: Iterate with dignity. Your product should feel like a sliding-paper door, not a rusty latch.

3. When You Realize Chickens Are Tiny Velociraptors

(A Healthy Corporate Cycle of Development)

• Lean In – Assess the weird angles of your backyard (read: your market, your team, your terrain) and adjust it for these little dinosaurs.

• Learn – Discover your joists are ⅛” too short (read: user feedback).

• Pivot – Re-cut, re-frame, re-budget. Remember: human-ness first.

• Soften – Apologize to your thumbs. And your staff.

• Show Up – Screw the hinge back on — again.

• Recover – Ice pack. Tea. Laughter. Start again tomorrow.

Miss one of these? Enjoy staying up until 2 a.m. making last-minute fixes in the rain for the one chicken who can’t settle — and realizing, to your surprise, that you love even this. (Occasionally.)

4. The Influencer Illusion

YouTube gurus build coops in seven minutes, jump-cutting every splinter. Ivy league founders raise Series A while sipping rooftop matcha. Someone says if you get on Netflix, you’ll finally be seen.

Meanwhile, I’m in the yard with a hose, hemp bedding avalanching into the rosemary, and — slice — there goes a knuckle on the spigot as I try to fix what’s already happening.

Business translation: Real growth involves blood. At the very least, a budget for Band-Aids.

5. What Chickens, Investors, and Supervisors All Have in Common

Chickens scatter at shadows. So do investors and supervisors. All three need:

• Shelter – A roof that holds and a survives Q4.

• Security – Predator-proof mesh and solid governance.

• Feed – Good grain and a clear path forward.

Skip one and the flock flutters — and trust dwindles.

6. Rent Is Due in 11 Days

I’d love to end this section with a crescendo about passive income.

But the feed store just raised prices, and the landlord wants rent on the 1st. So we ship version 0.3 of the coop tonight — lopsided, functional, unapologetically done.

It’s safe. It’s warm. Just don’t take a picture.

Tomorrow, we sand another edge, caulk another seam, maybe bandage another finger. That’s the price of craftsmanship — and leadership.

7. Final Cluck

Forget the billion-dollar blueprint.
Grab a screwdriver.
Scrape your knuckles.
Listen to the hens.

(They’ll tell you when you listened — and when you definitely didn’t.)

Why don’t more humans listen to hens, by the way?
They’re saying a lot. Directly to us.

8. Bonus Wisdom from a 90%-Done (Possibly Forever) First Coop

Build. Learn. Laugh. Repeat.

And remember: no one works where you work or is creating what you’re creating — so take every tip with a grain of salt. Then again, even salt only thrives in certain soils.

If all else fails? You’ll have fresh eggs for breakfast while you plot the next pivot. And someday, you’ll love these moments too — not because they were easy, but because you were alive for them.