There are two broods of chickens on the farm: one affectionally called Guantanamo and another whose area is moved around the fields. Nomad chickens who prepare the ground and eat wild things. Today, Devin and I shifted the nomads several yards over, to a new patch of turf.
At night, the chickens are tucked up in house carts (above). So transporting them was fairly straight forward. We took down the temporary fencing, moved it, and then moved the two carts. But in the process, four little brand-spanking new peeps escaped. We gathered them up in Devin's hat while the momma hen went berzerk.
Everything was put back in order, the chickens were let out, and the peeps reunited with their mother.
Along with dreaming of a garden, I dream of having a brood of my own chickens. Just a couple, enough for eggs for myself and my family. Already I have a few names picked out: Penelope, Odetta, Maude, Scarlett, Honoria...