Except when I opened the door to the barn's walkway, there she sat in the middle of it. It seemed odd to see her there so still. I stopped, and when I did, she stood up and out ran a dozen tiny chicks. it may well have been their first excursion after having been pushed out of the nest. Literally pushed, for the old nesting boxes are hung up four feet on the wall.
They scattered peeping and she sauntered, clucking softly back into the coop. I only watch the nursery scene briefly, choosing instead to seek forgiveness and leave her to the moments of singular affection that would soon fade. Tomorrow they will be parading across the grass and then I will sneak in to collect my eggs.