There were a lot of raised voices and verbal sparring going on in the chicken pen all morning as the newcomers were placed in pecking order by the older established residents. By afternoon there was "peace in the valley" again. The pullets are of a size to be able to hold their own against the hens and if I was right about the cockerel, he'd be inclined to protect his girls anyhow. I don't know how much damage Nicholas could inflict. He has enormous, four-inch-long spurs, but they get in his way even when he walks. He's quite a high-stepper, as he must lift a foot up and over the spur on the opposite leg or risk tripping and falling flat on his face.
I don't usually watch NASCAR road races (as opposed to oval track) because camera coverage is spotty. Yesterday at Watkins Glen, NY, a blimp was used to full advantage and it was a lot more fun to see the entire track with the aerial shots. Poor old Clint Bowyer can't catch a break.
On purpose, I waited until almost too late to put the chickens to bed last evening. It's their natural inclination to go under cover for the night, and that would make it a lot easier than chasing down the newbies who were out of their element in the big coop and not used to that routine yet. My plan worked, with one exception. Remember way back when when Pick-Me-Up Peggy would ask to be held before bedtime? One little red-headed youngster hid around the corner waiting, and came to me as I was shutting the smaller door. Prepared for a great chicken chase, it surprised me when she just stood there and let me pick her up. It might have been first-day insecurities and I won't give her a name unless this behavior continues. I hope it does. There's something special about a hen who snuggles in your arms and almost purrs as her head is stroked before being tucked in for the night.
Today is the first day of the last week of radiation. Ta da!