Be sure to crank up the volume! These little guys may be small, but they're loud!
When we got back, all the hens were having a flash mob in the front yard to greet us. It was hilarious, as they had spaced themselves evenly in a line in front of the farmhouse.
The poor shepherdess, once, alas, known as Red Death, when she was the Bear's bodyguard, has to arm herself with a hoe against Hermes our rooster. There has never been a more obnoxious waste of feathers. She frequently reenters the house streaming blood from spur and beak. He's vicious. We know he's getting the job done with the ladies, but our hens aren't really into the whole mother scene. So no chicks. They're good layers, though, the Bear will give them that.