We're not going to pretend we didn't tear up a little reading about Jojo. That hen lived more life in a few years than most of us manage in a decade, and she did it while staring down a hawk, a crop slice, a mystery reproductive system, and the kind of waterbelly that would make a lesser bird just give up. She didn't give up. She kept bossing the flock, kept eating her breakfast, kept being Queen B until her body finally said *enough*. And the person who loved her, who drove two hours with a dying hen in the car, who spent a fortune on surgeries and antibiotics, who made the hardest call out of pure love, that person deserves a round of applause and maybe a hug.
What strikes us most is how this story mirrors what so many of you live every day. You get attached to a feathered friend who seems invincible, and then life throws a hawk or a lash egg or a sudden organ failure at you. You feel helpless. You question every decision. You pour your heart and wallet into a creature that can't say thank you, but who looks at you with those bright, stubborn eyes and makes it all worth it. Jojo's story is a masterclass in what it means to be a chicken keeper: you learn that bravery isn't about not being scared, it's about fighting across the yard with a hawk on your back. And love isn't about avoiding the hard call; it's about making it when the time comes.
If a reader came to us and said, *"My hen got attacked by a hawk, what do I do?"* we'd tell them exactly what Jojo's person did: grab a towel, call every vet within a hundred miles, and don't stop driving until you find help. But we'd also tell them that sometimes the bravest thing a chicken does isn't surviving the attack, it's trusting you enough to let you help. Jojo trusted her human. She let herself be rushed, poked, stitched, and medicated, and then she went right back to ruling the roost. That trust is a gift, and it's the reason we keep showing up, even when it hurts.
Jojo wasn't just a good hen. She was a reminder that small creatures can carry enormous spirits, and that the people who care for them are quietly heroic. If you're reading this and missing a chicken who fought harder than she should have had to, we see you. We're proud of you. And we hope you know that every time you chose the vet trip over the easy way out, you honored her fight. That's not sentimental fluff, that's the practical truth of loving a feathered friend. Hold onto it.
