Why I'm Loving Kaua'i's Wild Chickens

Many people hate them, I love them!

So what’s to hate about these creatures and what’s to love? The chickens share the island with the humans, living freely pretty much everywhere, not afraid of people, just living their own lives. In the mild climate on this island, the chickens reproduce pretty much year around, meaning that the roosters are vocally challenging one another pretty much at all hours. The chicken haters don’t like being awakened at dawn by the hoarse loud crowing, and covering your head with a pillow barely softens the volume.

Here’s a classic rooster, ready to start crowing

Now that I live here, I don’t even notice the coarse voices of the roosters; they’re just part of the background, along with the rumble of planes taking off at the nearby airport and the yapping of too many dogs at a nearby residence.

What I do notice and truly enjoy is the devotion of the hens to their irresistible fluffy chicks. It’s fun watching the hens as they forage intently for food, scratching wildly into loose ground, with the chicks crowding around to peck up some mouthfuls.  I’m way past first times with these creatures, but I never tire of watching them. What got me started on this feeling?

Here’s a typical mother hen, sharing her food find with her young chicks.

About a month ago, Greg and I decided to visit the garden courtyard of the local Marriott Hotel. We parked the car and strolled towards the entrance. Suddenly I stopped—that tree—I remembered that tree—I remember seeing a hen snuggled among the root bases with her chicks years ago, the first time we’d visited this place.

The sense of warmth I experienced that day swelled back up as I once again felt the all’s-right-with-the-world feeling. that had flowed through me on that day.  And I told Greg, “I remember that very same tree, and a hen with her chicks, and it was such a sweet sight I know I took a photo, I’m sure I did.”

He glanced at me with a “Whatever” sort of gaze and encouraged me to continue to our goal, but the surety of that vision, of that feeling of joyous warmth, stayed with me.

After I recalled that moment, I put the thought aside—I’m a compulsive photographer, so I have thousands of photos, including hundreds with Kaua’i chickens.  The chance of finding that one photo again, especially since my album had been through several computers along the way and had lost a number of images, seemed highly unlikely at best.

Then, one day while searching my photos for another reason, that image just popped up.  There was the hen, nestled into the base of the tree with her half-grown chicks, just as I remembered!

This ‘wild’ hen chills out with her chicks at the edge of a busy hotel parking lot. She’s learned by experience that this cozy spot is safe for her chicks.

When I checked the date, it was February 25, 2017, at about 5pm. Six years ago.

And when I think about that moment and feel the warmth again, I ponder the meaning of “First time” experiences. So often, they are so everyday to some people that they’ve lost meaning. If you grew up in a neighborhood on an island that’s favored by the wild poultry, you might mumble under your breath at the sight of the hen, “There’s another one of those damn hens raising some more noisy roosters.” But for me, it’s beautiful.

Here’s a hen taking her chicks on a hunt for food, scratching the ground as the chicks rush around her feet, hoping to find some morsels. I never tire of watching a busy mom with her puffy little chicks, showing them how to find food and letting them share her find. As I view the scene, the warmth from that first vision of a mother hen watching over her chicks returns, and I feel reassured of the goodness of motherly care, wherever it occurs.