A few days ago it was time to clean out the chicken coop. Remove soiled shavings and replace with clean, pine scented ones.
Did I scoot the chickens into the outside pen and lock them out of the coop? No. They were allowed outside privileges into the donkey yard and pasture. Ignoring their freedom, they were instead fascinated with my duties and preferred to stay underfoot the entire time.
Each pitchfork full of dirty shavings was examined as was the bare coop floor.
Then came time to replenish the shavings.
Helpful hens again...
I did manage to get the clean shavings in place, in spite of my helpers.
However, the allure of the hay aisle where I also happen to keep the shavings bags was pretty powerful. It called liked a siren's song to all four.
Such silly clucks. They are a source of my daily amusement.