Sixteen hens, one soon-to-be-ex rooster, 80 square feet of coop, and 250 square feet of run, on paper, /u/Awatovi's setup sounds like a five-star chicken resort. Numbers on a tape measure don't tell the whole story, and this is exactly the kind of cluck-tastic math problem that separates a happy flock from a fowl-tempered mess. We've seen plenty of readers wrestle with similar questions, like why Why Porch Chickens Prefer Pooping on Concrete Over Grass or how to handle Saddle-sized rats raiding your run? I feel your fowl pain. This question is the same spirit, practical, a little messy, and absolutely worth getting right.
Let's break it down. Standard chicken math says 4 square feet per bird inside the coop, so 80 feet should hold about 20 hens. With 16 already there, you've got wiggle room. But roost space is the real test, 16 linear feet of bars for 16 hens means exactly one foot per bird. That's tight. Hens like to snuggle in winter, sure, but in warmer months they need room to spread out and avoid squabbling. And that rooster? Even if he's leaving soon, his presence right now might be pushing the pecking order into overdrive. Ten nest boxes for 16 hens is actually generous, most flocks share three or four boxes without drama, so that part's fine. The run, at 250 square feet, gives about 15 square feet per hen, which is decent but not luxurious. If these girls free-range at all, they'll be happier. If they're confined full-time, expect some feather-pulling and attitude.
Here's the concrete takeaway: you can absolutely keep 16 hens in that space, but don't add a single more bird until you see how the dynamics settle once the rooster leaves. That one change could turn a crowded-feeling coop into a peaceful one, or it could reveal that your hens need more vertical roost options or a second feeding station. Watch for bullying at the feeder and hens sleeping on the floor instead of the bars, those are your red flags. And if you're tempted to squeeze in a few more? Remember that every extra hen is another poop on that concrete porch, another wing-flap in the dust bath, another voice in the dawn chorus. Your coop might fit 20 on paper, but your sanity might only handle 14. Choose wisely.