Some people meditate, some do yoga—me? I scoop duck poop and talk to chickens. There’s just something soul-soothing about stepping out into the yard, coffee in hand, to be greeted by a flurry of feathers and the judgmental stare of a Dominique hen. They say you haven’t truly lived until a chicken looks at you like you’re late for breakfast… because you are. Tending to animals like my Dominique chickens and Ancona ducks keeps life delightfully grounded—and delightfully weird.

Ancona ducks, by the way, are like little artists waddling around with paint-splatter plumage and way too much attitude for their size. They quack with purpose and somehow always know when you’re wearing clean clothes. Meanwhile, the Dominique hens act like they’re in charge of the entire operation—which, let’s be honest, they probably are.

It’s not always glamorous—there’s mud, mystery feathers, and the occasional epic chase scene involving a runaway duck and a bucket of peas. But every day I spend with them, I feel connected—to the land, to a slower rhythm, and to the hilarious, beautiful chaos of barnyard life. Tending to animals isn’t just rewarding—it’s comedy, companionship, and a whole lot of quacks in between.