You weren’t just a chicken. You were the queen of the yard, the one who ran the show, the one who pecked first and asked questions never.

You had rules, and you made sure everyone followed them — especially me. You pecked me for treats, stole eggs from my hands, and strutted through life like it belonged to you. And honestly, it kind of did.

You were strong. So smart it almost scared me sometimes. You knew what was yours — and you made sure no one forgot it. Not your flock, not me, not the world.

I didn’t choose you, but you chose me in your way. With every demanding peck, every defiant jump, every moment you stood tall and unapologetic — you made me care more than I ever expected to.

And today, my heart is heavy. Because the world is quieter without your voice in it. But I will carry you with me — your fire, your courage, your beautiful, stubborn spirit.

You were never just a chicken. You were a little warrior right until the very end and I will love you always, my sweet Berta.