Sorry folks - I wasn't going to mention my mates the mites again. Red Mites. Chicken suckers. Itchy scratchy bastards. This is in the nature of a public service broadcast. Out there somewhere may there may well be some innocent Googler desperate to know what to do about their own infested chicken hut. Will it help to learn from my experiences?
Cast your minds back six weeks or so. I am dressed foolishly doing battle with the little critters which have, in a matter of days, invaded my deluxe hen-house-on-wheels. I scrub, I brush, I burn. I don my tea-towel face mask and shower cap hair protector. I brush with Red Mite solution. I paint a nasty patent medicine into the tongue and groove boarding. I puff diatomaceous earth (Necromite) into cracks, crevices, bedding, birds and dust baths. I sit back and wait for a mite-free day. And wait and wait and wait.
I suppose had I done nothing then the infestation may well have been immeasurably worse - but the little clusters of mites, which could each day be reduced under the thumb's pressure to a nasty bloody pulp, meant the problem had not gone away. They seem to thrive on diatomaceous earth - or is that just my imagination?.
I've cleaned out (again), blow-torched for the umpteenth time and this time washed down with Poultry Shield before dusting once again with the desiccating Necromite. I'll know tomorrow if I've been successful.
The answer may well be in a poultry house of seamless moulded plastic - no nooks and crannies for unwelcome visitors. In an ideal sci-fi world the door would be a beam of impenetrable rays. Perches would be shafts of light and nest boxes pools of comfy molecules. Dream on.
The hens are very well, thank you.