Oh, /u/LibrarianFlaky951, I see you. You're out there in the drizzle, watching your five-week-old feather babies huddle and then peck, wondering if you're about to commit some tragic chicken-parenting crime. You've got Easter Eggers, a Brahma, and a Speckled Sussex, a flock that sounds like a very specific, very adorable farmyard fantasy draft. And you're doing the thing we all do: overthinking the weather. Let me tell you, 50°F and a little drizzle is basically a spa day for a chicken. They're not huddling because they're cold; they're huddling because they're still figuring out this whole "outdoors" thing. That's the real transition, learning that the sky isn't going to fall on them, that bugs are delicious, and that you, their giant, nervous guardian, will keep showing up with snacks.
Here's the honest, unvarnished truth from someone who has definitely chickened out about this exact thing: if they're spending four days in the run and loving it, they're ready. The Pacific Northwest drizzle is a feature, not a bug, it keeps dust down and mud soft. Your birds are five weeks old, fully feathered, and acting like they own the place. That's the signal. The only real question is whether *you're* ready. I get it. You've been their heat lamp, their doorman, their personal meteorologist. Letting them live outside feels like sending a kid to kindergarten. But here's the cluck-tastic secret: chickens are hardier than we give them credit for. They don't need a climate-controlled condo. They need a dry, draft-free coop at night and a run where they can chase each other for entertainment. You've given them both.
So what would I say if you asked me directly? I'd say move them out full-time tonight. Give them a cozy, straw-filled coop with good ventilation (important in the PNW damp), and let them put themselves to bed. You'll probably peek out the window forty times the first night, I know I did, but they'll be fine. They'll huddle together for warmth, bicker about who gets the prime roosting spot, and wake up ready to do it all again. Your worry is proof you care, which is the only real qualification for being a good chicken parent. Trust the birds. They've told you they're ready. Now it's your turn to stop chickening out and let them sleep outside.