Every morning I have an exploding box of chickens

Every morning I have an exploding box of chickens.  Most have them have pushed out of the cardboard boxes they so tranquilly spent the night in, and are jumping, and pooping, and scrapping all over top of the boxes, frantic to get out.

We’re all cooped up!

The broody kennels too (now night occupancy for the greenhouse chickens).

They all come busting out, scratching and fluttering, and then vanish, absorbed into the jungle. 

They love a good hay bale.

Brown Bonnet has three little chicks, including the chick that Apples hatched.  This was a terrible hatch for her.  Two of her own, successful, and three that failed to make it out of the egg, even with my help.  She was having one hatch every day, and after her first two she was up and off of the eggs except at night (Three’s enough), so the late chicks really struggled (and died). 

They’re so tiny.   They look like they could fit comfortably in a ping pong ball, because they could.  Just got out of smaller quarters.

One white, one spider brown, and one white with rust accents (Apples’)