When I got home from my run to the store for nest boxes and shavings, I came in the house to discover that the chicks had spent at least part of their day ramming themselves against the screen covering their tub...and had knocked it askew and were imminently going to escape into the house. Eeek! The dogs were very delighted with this event...and the cat was suspiciously crouched on the stairs, just biding her time.
Obviously, it was time to move them out. Good thing I had the coop cleaned and fresh shavings to spread around.
After a somewhat traumatic move out of the house to the Coop via a large basket (note to self: put newspaper in first before transporting chicks), they were delighted to explore their new habitat. Lots of flapping runs and pouncing on random curious things, replete with squeaks and shrieks and peeping...and a bit of pooing in excitement.
Of course, around midnight the first night I woke up, head filled with dire thoughts of chilled and dead chicks. My brain wouldn't shut off the horror show, so up I got, found a flashlight, and wandered outside in slippers and nightie to check on the flock. There they were, snuggled up snoring under their heater...and there I was, laying awake trying to ignore the full moon and go back to sleep.
Somehow, I think they got the better end of the transition.