One of Hester's little kits has been getting out of her cage, and yesterday when I went up to feed the critters it was on the ground again, hiding in the doorway of the barn. After I'd corralled it, I dropped it into my shirt pocket so I'd have both hands free for the door and my water bucket. The little one, probably tuckered out after a cold and scary night on its own, immediately curled up and went to sleep in its warm, cozy little carry pouch. So I left it there, because whatcha gonna do? And also... awwwwww.
You know that feeling when a baby falls asleep on your shoulder, that warm little body going limp in total trust and comfort? Yeah, like that but on a smaller scale.
After the wee one had slept for a few hours I put a little plastic food container on the desktop for her, with some fresh greens, and then watched in amusement as a Very Small Rabbit ate a Very Large Breakfast...
...and then helped me with my article (yes, sadly, my desk is that cluttered).
I'd finally located the spot on the cage where the little one had been escaping, and repaired it at lunchtime. So now the wee one is back with her mama and siblings. I'd decided that a "pocket bunny" must necessarily be dubbed Polly (my daughter loved Polly Pocket toys when she was little, and granddaughter has some now), and if in fact Polly turns out not to be a girl, well... Paulie also works. 
I've mentioned before that the youngest and skinniest of our original flock of chickens was a white Leghorn pullet which we inevitably named Miss Prissy, since we'd grown up on those vintage Warner Bros cartoons. Prissy has been setting a clutch of eggs for several weeks, and a couple of days ago got her reward: a single chick. I have occasionally had writers describe a character as fussing over something "like a hen with one chick," and now I'm seeing it IRL.
My GF came in laughing from the chickens' run that afternoon, telling me that little Prissy (still the smallest and scrawniest of the adult birds) had bullied the entire current flock of 50+ birds all the way back into the sheltered roosting area at one end of the run. If any other bird dared step out for water or food, she'd be on it in a split second, in a berserk rage. She'd mellowed a bit by yesterday, and had taken up a position near the base of that quail condo I'd constructed (see photos upthread). When she needed to get up for any reason, the little chick (otherwise firmly ensconced under mama) would scuttle underneath the quail condo, where none of the others could follow.
When I fed them all, the others stepped out gingerly toward the feeders, keeping one eye on Prissy the whole time, instead of swarming me as they usually do. The whole thing was rather amusing, though I *did* make a point of rearranging the feeders and waterers so the flock wouldn't either starve or keep poor Prissy in a continual state of advanced agitation. Here are mama and the little guy:
He's a bit fuzzy, partly because I had to use the zoom pretty aggressively to get this close without triggering the Wrath of Prissy, and partly because... he's a bit fuzzy.
We popped for enough 7-ft deer fencing to completely surround my garden, and I hope to have the other half of that installed by this afternoon, after which the chickens will once again have the opportunity to free-range for a portion of each day. I'm less enthused about this than my GF (I think we'll probably lose some of our half-grown birds), but the flock is her project/responsibility, so I'll roll with it and we'll take what comes.