There's a video making the rounds of a hen named Amber doing what hens do, feeding her chicks. Except Amber isn't scratching at the dirt or clucking over a pile of commercial feed. She's standing there, calm as can be, while her babies swarm around her beak as she delivers black soldier fly larvae one by one. And it's not just cute. It's a masterclass in avian parenting that left me equal parts impressed and, honestly, a little intimidated.
Let's be real: I've seen chickens do some spectacularly dumb things. Walk into their own water dish. Get spooked by a leaf. Forget where they laid their eggs five minutes ago. So watching Amber orchestrate a feeding frenzy with the precision of a short-order cook at a diner during the breakfast rush? That's the kind of bird-brain brilliance that makes you question who's really in charge around here. She knows exactly when each chick has had its fill. She doesn't drop a single larva. She's not flustered by the chaos. And all the while, she's probably thinking, "Try doing this with a hangry toddler, human."
For the rest of us staring at our backyard flocks, this is both a relief and a challenge. The relief is that your hens probably don't need you to hand-feed their babies like a sous chef. Most mothers manage just fine on instinct. The challenge is the reminder that our chickens are far more capable than we give them credit for. If you've been hovering over a broody hen, micromanaging her nest, worrying she'll mess it up, stop. Let her do her thing. Nature has been running this show a lot longer than we have.
If a reader came to me and said, "My hen won't feed her chicks like Amber does, should I intervene?" I'd say take a breath and watch for another day. Hens have different styles. Some are overachievers. Some are more relaxed. Unless the chicks are losing weight or the hen is actively ignoring them, she probably knows what she's doing. And if you're the anxious type, remember: black soldier fly larvae are a treat, not a necessity. The real food, scratch, bugs, greens, is what they'll learn to find on their own.
Amber's performance is a snapshot of the quiet intelligence we so often overlook when we're busy calling birds "bird-brained." She's not performing for the camera. She's just being a mom. And if we can learn anything from her, it's this: trust the process. Stop second-guessing the feathers. Your hen's got this.