There are four chicks in this picture. One is doing a burrowing/dust bath/camofluage thing. Can you find him?

They’re loving their playpen. Really, they seem like a bunch of exceedingly happy chickens.

They’ve trampled the long grass flat, mostly, although they still get snagged and tripped up in it and fall over. That’s funny.

They all run outside when I open the hatch in the morning, and they crowd back in the hen door when I approach them. Except this morning, when I strolled up for a look and two of them promptly slipped through the fence like water to get away from me.

That’s a problem.

Luckily, it’s very important to chickens to be with the other chickens, so the teensy one immediately slid back in, but the other one had more trouble doing that, trying gap after gap before he found one that he could fit through. That smallest chicken is a spitfire, always in the forefront and thick of things. I’m gonna have to name them soon.

I’ve added some panels of smaller gauge wire to the lower feet of the fence, defying what seemed impossible and further increasing the utter charmlessness of the whole structure.

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