A Little Red Hen Named Mahra

A mahogany-hued ember against the mottled earth and dust, she moved with a purpose only she understood. Just how she had come to be there was a mystery, but the confidence of this plucky hen suggested she feared nothing. Perhaps she took comfort in the notion that the universe had a grander plan.

From fast-moving vehicles to the shadows of prowling foxes, the world around her brimmed with danger. Yet Mahra—oblivious or simply unbothered—scratched, pecked and busied herself as if she belonged nowhere. And yet—everywhere, all at once.

And so, thanks to a kind-hearted worker, the wandering warrior we would name Mahra was gently bundled up and she was sanctuary-bound.

Gone are the days of scraping the earth’s tired skin for sustenance. Now, nourishment comes in overflowing abundance—fresh fruits, crisp greens, golden grains and the purest water. No longer need she roost in fear, as soft hemp bedding and the warmth of kindness cradle her each night.

Life for Mahra now is perfect.

As too is her name. A name that means many things in many tongues, but to us, the one that holds us most is the meaning of beauty. For though her feathers are a patchwork of moulting disarray, her spirit shines undimmed. An ISA Brown hen, bred for human servitude but living for herself. A singular soul—unburdened at last, unbounded.

And as we watch her before us, the sun surrendering the day behind her, she chases dragonflies and dreams. Weaving her own tale in a world where she is finally free.

How wondrous, we marvel, that a little red hen can remind us of resilience, of second chances, and of the quiet beauty in simply being.