We picked up chickens from some nice people with an impressive menagerie of exotic pheasants, peacocks, and chickens (their amazing place is for sale, too, if anyone is into birds in a big way). After a mad shrieking (the chickens, not us) scramble to catch the right birds and stuff them (all five together) into a box, we spent some time there visiting, then drove almost an hour home. They were mostly quiet on the way, just some scuffling and disgruntled noises on some curves in the road.
Evening was coming on fast when we got home, and we were bringing hardware cloth for the coop home at the same time as the occupants, that we had to install before we could put the birds in for the night. We quickly tacked the mesh on the bottom, creating the secure “upstairs” interior, and used plumbing strap to put on the poles for carrying it. Then we tipped the coop back upright and moved it to the garden area where we want them scratching.
Yep, heavy. H.W. :“Yeah, I feel like an Egyptian slave, carrying the king on a litter.”
All ready to release the birds into their new home!
Excited, we carried the box of birds up from the car and put it on the floor inside the coop.
Reached in to open the flaps, waiting for the heads to pop up, and… nothing. All the birds were burrowed down on the floor of the box, in a very awkward-looking pile, heads down.
Peeked in on them later, and they hadn’t moved. Spending the night in the box, then.