Lots of drama in the coop at dusk today, a chick-cacophony of eighteen confused youngsters yelling and crying. If they had been people, someone would have called Social Services.

Alsty was trying to convince the kids that roosting with the laying flock was better than nesting in the brooder pen. Some of them bought it, others did not.

I left them to sort out their issues, and checked in again at dark. Half of the babies had made it up on the roost with Mama, but the other half had piled into a tearful little lump in the corner of the brooder pen.

That wasn’t going to work. They’d get too chilled in the night, I had to bring Alsty to them. Several trips up and down the step stool later, grabbing babies and carrying them to the pen, I got the last chick and Mama in and locked the door.

I hope I won’t be doing this every night for the next little while; but you know I will be.