Revelation in the Chicken Run

At the beginning of my recess duty, Kara asked if she could go in the chicken run.
Once inside she trod gingerly, toe-stepping, hands held up close to her shoulders, watching with caution the six hens mill around her legs. She started figuring out which hens were more unpredictable and therefore scary and which could be patted. “Feisty,” she said; “those are feisty, these are nice.” As other second graders joined her in the chicken run, Kara was the expert, and they asked her, “Is this one feisty? This one?”
As the gaggle of children closed in, the chickens all ended up herded into one end of the run. The hens squeezed themselves into corners and little spaces under the chicken coop, just out of reach of the kid’s patting hands. Kara’s friend Shareen turned from the hens and exclaimed, “They think WE are the feisty ones!”

Where’d all the chickens go?

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