Ethos

Some people need to see the whole world to get a sense of history. My father only needed to dig into the earth on his own land, look at the trees and the sky, and the story of the universe would reveal itself to him — from the seashells locked in ancient rock from when the prairies were a sea, to the teeth of creatures that hadn’t walked these hills in ten thousand years.

From my father, I learned the names and uses of plants and spent my childhood surrounded by the herbs and botanicals that grew wild across the Nebraska pastures — plants that my father knew intimately, not just as specimens but as part of a living system that sustained everything from the soil to the cattle to the family. This is the world I grew up in.

But I needed to see the whole world as much as I possibly could. When I eventually settled, it was within an urban neighborhood — the kind of place where a grocery store is a luxury and green space is measured in square feet rather than acres. In this urban space I established a flock of chickens. Not just for eggs, though I love those. I wanted to maintain a thread to where I came from. But when I started keeping an urban flock, I felt something I hadn’t expected: a deep ache for what was missing.

My hens had no place to forage, no open pastures, no place for prairie soil dust-baths, or native herbs and grasses. They were confined. Even a generous run is a fraction of what a hen’s nature demands.

I believe deeply in the power of knowledge to change outcomes. After establishing my flock, I started researching. I looked at what was available for backyard flocks — and the picture was discouraging. You just had to hope that what you were buying was good. Meanwhile, studies in poultry science were showing that herbs like oregano, thyme, and calendula could genuinely support immune function and gut health in birds. The gap between what the research showed was possible and what was available to backyard keepers was enormous.

Happy Chicks Feed sources organic ingredients from the best suppliers. Every ingredient is measured to the gram — not because I’m fussy, but because precision is how you replicate what nature does effortlessly. Every batch is made by hands with methods as careful as any laboratory. I don’t use manufacturing lines. I use a scale, my hands, and the knowledge my father gave me about what plants can do.

There’s a word I keep reaching for — something beyond “welfare” or “husbandry.” It’s about the inner lives of animals. I think about what we owe these creatures who give us so much — eggs, companionship, joy, connection to something ancient and real. We owe them more than generic industrial feed.

This is my father’s ranch meeting urban reality. It’s a promise that every product that leaves my hands has been made with the same care and knowledge that my father gave to me.

The Ranch

Our Urban Flock