Are you getting tired of the chicken talk yet?

Last night when it was almost dark, I went out to the house the young chicks were raised in and started grabbing them and tossing them in the hen house with the adults.  I finally got them all in there, but I knew when daylight came, some of them would be able to escape the pen:  The wire isn't chicken wire, but has openings that measure 2 inches by 4 inches.  The smaller of the youngsters can still squeeze through an opening that size, especially when chased by an older hen.  Chickens are mean to one another; they coined the term "pecking order".  

This morning there was one escapee.  We went to Versailles to buy a rusty old cheap livestock trailer, and when we returned, there were five chicks out roaming around, and seven still in with the big girls.  

I turned all the chickens, big and small, out to roam, and pondered my options.  I decided to let the youngsters return to the home where they were raised, wait a week, and put them in the "big house" again.  By that time, maybe none of them would be small enough to escape.  

A while ago I went out to shut all the birds in, and was amazed to find five of the "babies" on the roost in the big house.  That was their choice.  The other eight were in their old home.  

I love watching animals make choices, and just like my own children and grandchildren, sometimes they surprise me.

No adolescent chicks have died yet

After their mother abandoned them, I was hesitant to let the adolescent chicks roam freely about the yard.  I have seen a hawk swoop down and try to pick up a five-pound rooster.  He didn't have the strength to pull it off, but you know if he would attempt such a feat as that, he would easily snatch a young chicken.  

Every evening when I take a head count, I am amazed that all the chicks have survived thus far.  Knock on wood, because that could change at any time.  Never assume everything is going to be OK:  That's a lesson I've learned many times.

There was a time I wouldn't have been able to allow chickens to roam around my yard, because there were always several dogs running freely about the neighborhood.  That has changed in the last couple of years.  But I do think about the fox who sneaks past the house sometimes in broad daylight, and yes, the hawks soaring high above.  

I believe the chief reason the brood has survived is that they spend at least 3/4 of their time beneath the shelter of the pine trees behind Cliff's shop, so they aren't visible from the air.  I just went out a while ago to take this picture, and until I called to them, there wasn't a chicken in sight.  

I wonder how they know there is safety in hiding?  Did their mother teach them, or do they simply know it because of a code in their genetic makeup?  

By the way, when I turn the adult chickens out in the afternoon, the chicks still recognize their mother and run to her.  They are greeted with a firm peck on the head, but every day they will approach her again.  Perhaps the hen is practicing the chicken version of tough love.