Last night, Maria and I snuck out to the big barn-like thieves in the night. We snatched the two new chicks and carried each one – they were half asleep – into the big roost  – I call it the Hotel Hen – and gently put them up on a roasting stick.

They went right back to sleep, and the two big hens didn’t wake up.

At 5:30 this morning, we got up and went outside to make sure the hens hadn’t gone after the chicks – chickens are often not very nice to other chickens.

Everything was fine. We stuck an Iphone in there and got a picture. The two chicks are still sleeping up top next to the red hen, the white hen, the queen of the hotel, is in her own box, as usual.

We opened the roost door, and the big hens popped out; the chicks stayed asleep. We closed up the roost and put in food and water; after a day or so, the chicks will make the transition and know where they live.

At night, we’ll open the roost up so that the big hens can hop in. It wasn’t a big moment in the scheme of things, but it felt like a big moment to us wussies.

I’m taking Maria out to Jean’s place for breakfast. This morning I’m going to check on the progress of the barn-raising at the Miller farm, then go to Saratoga for a routine doctor’s appointment.

I’m bringing an ice cream sundae party kit from Stewart’s Convenience store to the Miller farm later to help celebrate Fanny’s birthday (I got the name wrong yesterday.)

The chicks have become important to us; we’ve worked hard taking care of them and making sure their movement to the Hotel Hen is safe.  The farm is almost always about life and death; we learn a lot here.