Growling Hens & Scaredy-cat Goats

The chickens who choose to go free ranging have picked one spot in which to lay their eggs, which saves me from a daily hunt for their product.  There is a narrow gap between some bales of straw in the hay shed, and they squeeze into this small space for privacy.  As I was breaking a bale of alfalfa for the goats in the morning, I heard a low, gutteral growling and looked around for the source.  One hen had already claimed the nesting spot, and another was trying to move in and was being warned off.  The little girls may have a limited vocabulary, but there is no mistaking the intent.  I'll sometimes find eight or ten eggs in this hidey-hole, so the girls have worked out some system during the day to take turns.

The sun doesn't drop over the horizon until nearly seven-thirty now, but I must time putting the goats to bed a little before then.  Too soon, and they complain like little kids that it is too early and they're not sleepy yet.  Too late, and they panic if they can't see all the way to the back of their stalls and refuse to go in at all.  They dither around in a cluster outside the barn, snorting and pawing the ground.  I usually just open a gate or door and each knows where they're to go, but if it's too dark, I have to go in first and reassure them that there are no monsters in the closet.  Finally, the bravest will make a dash for it, the others waiting to make sure nothing bad happens, and then follow.  The chore may be the same every day, but the experience is always different.