From what I can remember a chicken will head to a roost point at slightly one candlepower of remaining dusk light.So the others had gone into the hutch but the Polish Scruff, the one with the greatest leap, was atop her alternate roost, the mesh roof of the big chicken pen.It means me having to turn sideways between a fence and the pen, tummy rubbing the metal through my shirt, then shift tow squeeze between a shed and the pen until I get to where I can grab her.The last two nights I had a torch and with it in my teeth I successfully got her, the aim to pin her wings comfortably so she doesn't freak and flap. I didn't have the torch since there was light enough to see but I had a hand either side of her and was pressing down when she freaked, flap-ran in a huff to the edge of the pen and hopped off. Then she walked to the entry of the smalls' hutch where she is supposed to roost and as I returned along the fence and pen sides to get back she watched me then walked, on her own terms, into her night house. Dignity expressed in chicken terms; yes, I will go in—but for now I choose to.The end result was the same; she went into the roost. If she goes in with dignity on her own then all the better for me. Chicken-based WFTW.