When we go out for the morning chores, one or the other of us opens the door to the chicken roost, a colonial affair with shingled roof and a light to encourage winter egg-laying and also provide a bit of warmth on bitter cold days and nights.  (Their heated water bowl is hooked up now, it’s been below freezing at night.)

The white hen is the team leader, she is always the first one out the door  Chickens don’t really need heat lamps, I believe, they can handle extreme weather, but Maria’s chickens want for nothing. I have to admit it was me, not her, who ordered this elegant roost.