My husband temporarily fenced off a good part of the upper back yard with bird netting (to be replaced with chicken wire when the ground softens) so that our dogs don't run down into the woods unsupervised. So, I let the troops out to mosey around back there for a couple of hours. The goofy things were more interested in following me around than in exploring. It's like having groupies.
I did have words with Captain Morgan, my chief rooster. He kept giving me stinkeye, and then rushed up to me, grabbed the front of my skirt with his beak and tried flogging me. I usually wear ankle-length skirts because they're comfortable, so he only got a beakful of cloth, and was sent off-balance when I stepped backwards. I shoved him away none too gently with my foot, deflected another attempted bite with the corner of my jacket, and then stalked him all over the yard for a while until he ran like he had devils on his tailfeathers every time I approached him. Respect mah authoritah, rooster!