Rescuing animals has always been woven into the fabric of our family’s story. Our companions—dogs, cats, and a few surprises along the way—have always come from shelters, never breeders. But every so often, a truly unexpected soul enters your life and changes it forever.
That’s how Gwen found her way to us. After a tornado tore through our area, the local humane society—where Karen worked—was suddenly flooded with animals displaced by the storm. Among them was an unusual arrival that caught Karen’s attention: a Rhode Island Red hen, brought in by animal control over the weekend. The poor bird was visibly stressed, so the staff placed her in the stray cat ward, away from the chaos of barking dogs. They draped a towel over her kennel to create a sense of calm, but even in the relative quiet, she remained agitated and unsettled. Karen spent a lot of time that week softly petting her, which relaxed her enough to nestle down into her towel bed, eventually.
After the mandatory seven-day hold passed with no one stepping forward to claim her, she faced two options: adoption or euthanasia. Without hesitation, Karen brought her home—no plan, just a deep sense that this little hen needed a safe place to land. They had formed a friendship in the cat ward.
“Mom, she’d make the perfect therapy animal.” We had been toying with the idea of bringing comfort animals into our town’s two nursing homes, and here was our chance—with feathers. Our local pet therapy organization had therapy cats, dogs, and even horses, but a chicken was a brand new application.
We named her Gwen the Hen. Karen found the perfect basket that cradled Gwen like a soft nest, fit perfectly in between the armrests of a wheelchair, and remarkably, Gwen was content. She never flapped, never fussed. She sat peacefully, soaking in affection like she’d been born for this role. When Gwen made her debut at the nursing home, magic happened. Elderly residents—many of whom had grown up on Iowa farms—were instantly transported back in time. For some, it had been decades since they’d touched a chicken. Gwen brought back memories, sparked conversations, and most of all, made people smile. She was a novelty, yes—but also a living, breathing comfort.
Gwen took her job seriously. She nestled calmly into laps, basked in the attention, and never once tried to leave her basket. At home, she wandered our backyard by day, leaving gifts of fresh eggs tucked behind bushes. She lived in our walk-out basement like a quiet housemate with a very special resume. We filled a children’s kiddy pool with soil and dozens of mealworms for winter-time enrichment. She was a happy hen.
Karen was a busy high school senior, but these visits grounded her. She wasn’t just delivering a chicken—she was delivering joy. And then, through a classmate who worked at the nursing home, Karen met Lester.
Lester was 99. A long-time resident with a sharp wit, a lonely heart, and a love for forbidden foods. He and Karen bonded quickly. Lester was in heart failure and wasn’t allowed to have any salt or sugar. He had outlived his entire family, so he hadn’t had visitors in years. When Karen visited with Gwen, she smuggled in dark chocolate, making Lester’s eyes twinkle as he hid the tiny bars in a dresser drawer. Their friendship became a fixture for a year, and when Lester passed at 100, Karen attended his service at the church where he was married, one of only six people at his funeral, the others being nursing home staff and clergy.
In his final year of life Lester was not alone. He had Karen. And Gwen. And Chocolate.
Gwen helps my husband, Jim, go through the mail
We never knew how old Gwen was. One day, Karen noticed she was off—struggling to jump onto her favorite table perch. And her comb was more pale. Twenty-four hours later, she was gone. Her time with us was brief, but what a legacy she left. She brought warmth and touch and memory back into lives that had gone without it for too long.
Sometimes, I think about my own future. I’m 83 now. If I end up in a nursing home, will anyone stop by to say hello? Will a caring stranger bring a happy dog for me to pet, or even better, a chicken in a basket? Animals of all shapes and sizes have a way of knitting strangers together quickly, turning chance meetings into opportunities for meaningful connection and friendship. That’s part of their magic.
We may not all have a Gwen to soften the room. But we do have ourselves. We pass by older folks every day—at the store, in the park, on the sidewalk. Slower-moving, quiet, maybe lonely. A smile, a kind word, a brief pause—these simple acts can mean the world. For someone like Lester, they might be everything.
Gwen the Hen reminded us that joy comes in surprising forms. That animals heal. That age doesn't erase the need for connection. And that even a red hen in a basket can change lives. If you have a pet of any species that’s a calm, social butterfly and loves to be with people, consider joining a pet therapy group. Becoming a pet therapy volunteer is one of the most quietly powerful ways to bring healing into the world.
Watching your animal gently comfort someone in pain—whether it’s a child in the hospital, a lonely senior, or a grieving soul—is a reminder that love doesn’t need words. The bond between people and animals transcends illness, fear, and isolation. It’s a gift—for the person, for the pet, and for you. In those quiet moments of connection, you witness something extraordinary: the simple, profound ability of animals to heal hearts.
So live well, my friends. Look up, slow down, and share a smile. Because life—like Gwen’s—is too short not to.
Love from Mama Becker
SPECIAL OFFER*
Gwen the Hen had a passion for the garden—and garden-fresh vegetables. In honor of Gwen’s love for healthy veggies, we’re offering 15% off our wholesome Veggie Bites this week, a tribute to her feathery enthusiasm for fresh, healthy snacks! Your beloveds will love them just as much!
15% off our wholesome Veggie Bites
*Offer ends Tuesday, August 12th at midnight (no code needed).