The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of chickens are walking on this worn dirt path that winds through a dense redwood forest, the massive tree trunks looming overhead and filtering the late afternoon sunlight. The air's still and quiet, except for the soft rustling of leaves under the chickens' feet, and the scent of damp earth and moss fills the air. Like, somehow one of the trees has a door carved into the trunk, and it's just... slowly creaking open by itself, revealing a dark, cramped space inside the tree. A group of squirrels is calmly gathering acorns nearby.