Trading Stadium Lights for Chicken Coops: My Unexpected Farm Life
If someone had told me years ago that I’d go from the blinding glare of stadium lights to the soft glow of sunrise over a chicken coop, I would’ve laughed and said, “Not a chance.” Back then, my life was all about the big stage—late nights, loud crowds, and the rush of chasing that perfect moment when laughter rolled like thunder. But life has its own sense of humor, and now my “audience” is a flock of clucking divas who demand breakfast on cue and never hesitate to let me know if I’m running late.
At first, the adjustment felt surreal. I’d traded microphones for feed buckets, applause for rooster crows, and green rooms for muddy boots by the back door. The chickens, of course, didn’t care about my past life under the lights. Nugget only cared if I brought enough grain. Beatrice? She strutted around like she’d been headlining since birth, bossing the others out of nesting boxes as though she owned the place. And then there was me—figuring out how to shovel, scrub, and laugh my way through it all.
The funny thing is, farm life has its own kind of performance. The timing might not be about punchlines anymore, but about catching a runaway hen before she clears the fence. The improv isn’t with hecklers—it’s with goats who believe every bucket is theirs. And the chaos? Well, let’s just say it’s alive and well, only with more feathers and a lot more mud.
What surprised me most, though, was the peace hiding inside the pandemonium. When you’ve spent years chasing bright lights and big crowds, there’s something grounding about watching the sun climb over the pasture, coffee in hand, while the farm wakes up around you. The chickens cluck their morning gossip, the donkey brays for attention, and suddenly the only thing that matters is right there in front of you.
And here’s the secret: those stadium lights were dazzling, but the chicken coops have a charm all their own. The laughter is still here—louder, in some ways, because it’s shared with animals who have no script and zero interest in pretending. The joy is still here too, but now it’s tied to the simple wins: a fresh egg, a fixed fence, a TikTok video that captures the chaos in all its ridiculous glory.
So yes, I traded stadium lights for chicken coops. I swapped the rush of the crowd for the rhythm of the farm. And while it might not have been the life I pictured, it’s the life that’s teaching me balance, patience, and how to laugh at myself in brand new ways. Because whether it’s under the lights or in the coop, the best stories are the ones you never saw coming.
