On Worms & Why I No Longer Walk Alone

This morning I made the mistake of carrying the red feed bucket past the pasture without worms in it.

They knew.

It started with one hen tilting her head — that precise, calculating angle chickens use when they’re deciding whether you are friend or fraud. Then another. And another. Within seconds, I had a full delegation advancing toward me across the grass.

Not for grain. Not for feed.

For worms.

If you’ve never watched a chicken hunt a worm, you might assume it’s casual. It isn’t. It’s tactical. There’s a focused stillness, then a sudden strike — a quick snap and an immediate retreat from the crowd, because nothing on this farm sparks competition like a fresh earthworm.

And here is the part most people don’t see:

Worms are not a treat in the way candy is a treat.
They are concentrated nutrition.

Earthworms are rich in:

• Complete amino acids

• Highly bioavailable protein

• Trace minerals from the soil

When hens forage naturally — scratching, digging, chasing — they are building the very thing we measure later in the Egg Ledger:

Yolk density.
Protein structure.
Color depth.

The darker yolks. The firmer whites. The clean shell formation.
None of it is accidental.

It begins with instinct.

I’ve noticed something else recently. If I walk into the pasture empty-handed, they still follow me. Not because they are confused — but because they are hopeful.

They remember.

Worm days have created expectation.

There’s something deeply reassuring about that. The hens know what nourishes them. They chase what strengthens them. And when they eat this way — actively, instinctively, enthusiastically — the eggs reflect it.

So yes, I now travel with worms.

And no, I am never alone.