There's a special kind of chaos that comes with bringing home your first flock. You've got the coop built, the feeder filled, and a heart full of hope. Then you stand there, squinting at your new feathered friends, and realize you don't know if they're boys or girls, teenagers or toddlers, or why they treat the coop like a haunted house they refuse to sleep in. That's exactly where u/sbd0606 finds themselves, and honestly? We've all been there. The post is a beautiful mess of first-time owner energy: hopeful, confused, and just a little bit desperate.
Let's talk about that age and gender guessing game first. It's the chicken equivalent of trying to read tea leaves, except the tea leaves have feathers and might start crowing at 5 AM. The photos show birds with some comb and wattle development, which suggests they're past the fluffy chick stage but not fully mature. I'd ballpark them around 10 to 14 weeks, but I'm squinting at a screen, not holding them. As for gender, well, Roos tend to develop larger, redder combs earlier, and they'll eventually start practicing their crow, which sounds like a rusty hinge mixed with a toddler's tantrum. Hens are subtler. If you hear a noise that makes you question your sanity at sunrise, you've got a roo. If they just cluck and lay eggs, you're golden.
Now, the coop sleeping situation is where we earn our chicken-keeping stripes. These birds love the coop, they explore it, peck at it, maybe even nap in it. But bedtime? Nope. They'd rather roost on a fence post or a random branch, acting like you've installed a monster inside their cozy cabin. Don't take it personally. Chickens are creatures of habit and suspicion. To them, a new coop is just a fancy trap until proven otherwise. The fix is simple: lock them inside the coop for a few nights. Give them treats inside before dusk. Show them that the coop is the safest, coziest spot in the yard. They'll get the memo. Usually within three to four nights, they settle in and start heading there on their own at sundown.
Here's what I'd tell u/sbd0606 face-to-face, over a cup of coffee and a shared laugh at our own chicken-induced anxiety: you're doing great. The fact that you're asking questions means you care. The fact that your birds are healthy and happy enough to ignore your bedtime plans means they trust you. So stop stressing about every feather and focus on the ritual. Put them to bed by hand if you have to. Lock the door. Listen to the indignant clucking from inside as they realize the universe has conspired against their rebellious bedtime. In a week, you'll be the proud owner of a flock that beats you to the coop every evening, and that's a victory worth clucking about.