I'm sorry to admit that I reversed my good chicken husbandry at roosting time last night.
The pullets did a brilliant job of running fast as they possibly could between Mary and the doorframe. They've worked out that she's a slow mover, you see, so scooting past her is their best option for gaining entry to the henhouse. The other aunties were safely on the other side of Mary.
They both jumped up onto the roost and Ivy began measuring and calculating her flight path up to the new branch I put up for her. A few minutes later, up she went for a perfect landing safe and sound up high and away from any bedtime pecking.
Peggy can't fly like Ivy can. She was walking back and forth on the roost, calling for her friend.
I ought to have left her there. But I picked her up and placed her next to Ivy. A failure on my part. An hour later I realised she wouldn't be able to get down. So I set my alarm.
Up at 5 this morning, I crept into the henhouse and lifted her down to a lower perch.
Instead of directly intervening in the roosting, I'll provide a smaller, slightly higher roost towards the back of the coop so it'll be uncomfortable for the big hens but just right for Peggy.
There're no guarantees she'll think to use it but at least it'll be an option for her.
Why couldnt she get down? Flying down is much easier than up.