It's a good thing I hadn't waited. After putting the goats to bed, I started tucking in the chickens. Ginger, who normally greets me and rushes to be first in the gate to the big pen, did not appear. Maybe she's on the other side of the coop. I got the feed bucket for nighty-night snacks. Still no Ginger. Thinking she might have gone broody, I checked her hidey-hole. Empty and the egg abandoned. I started getting worried. Shutting the door to the Taj for the Silkies, I heard a rusting in the leaves to the west, over by the fence line. There was my little red-headed girl, scratching away for one last goody in the fading light. Bessie, who was again my escort, was more than ready to herd Ginger home, but responded well to "Leave it!" ("Good girl, Bess!") Ginger looked around as if surprised to see how fast the sun was fading and came running. I'd have had no time to take a day's-end photo. All present and accounted for, doors closed against the darkness, Bessie Anne and I went back to the house.
It was a good day.