Soon I realized that they were focusing their efforts on the edge of the run closest to where Chloe and I were sitting. They felt safest close to us, and their peeping fell to a contentedly sing-song murmur back and forth, sort of a “Marco-Polo” (or Marco-Pollo, I guess…) lilt to it as they soothed themselves with the late afternoon sun, their Golden protector and each other’s company. It felt like the right place to be.
When I brought them in, they were voraciously hungry, so I rewarded them with some shredded cheddar, aka worms as far as they’re concerned. They responded with the same shrieking and racing around as the last time cheese was served.