Posted on April 13, 2025

Bristol Man Fights for His Emotional Support Chickens

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Bristol, IN — A local man is in a fowl mood after the Town of Bristol notified him that his backyard chicken permit may be under review. His defense? The chickens are emotional support animals, and taking them away would be a clear violation of his constitutional right to “cluck in peace.”

The man, who asked only to be identified as “Rooster Daddy,” has become a minor folk hero among local chicken owners, due in part to his extravagant coop designs and his firm belief that chickens are “not just livestock — they’re feathered healers.”

According to the Town of Bristol’s animal ordinance, residents are required to apply for a permit to keep chickens, with the number of active permits capped at the discretion of the town council. Rooster Daddy received one of those coveted licenses last spring after what he described as “an emotional plea involving interpretive dance, three eggs, and a tambourine.”

But the joy was short-lived. After receiving what officials called “repeated and oddly poetic complaints” from a nearby resident about “excessive poultry pep rallies and 4 a.m. motivational squawking,” the council began reconsidering his eligibility.

“They said my coop was ‘too whimsical,’” Rooster Daddy told reporters, gesturing toward the glitter-coated henhouse in his backyard, which he named Cluckingham Palace. The structure features twinkle lights, motivational signage like You’ve Got This, Egg Girl! and Don’t Be a Salty Nugget, and a surprisingly well-insulated roof made from upcycled yoga mats.

Inside, the chickens enjoy what he calls “enrichment programming,” including a rotating selection of audiobooks, soft jazz playlists, and laminated affirmations clipped inside their nesting boxes.

“I’m just trying to raise confident hens,” he said. “And if that means daily affirmations and glitter curtains, then so be it.”

When pressed for documentation proving the birds’ emotional support status, Rooster Daddy produced a crayon drawing labeled “Official Certificate” and a handwritten note from someone named “Dr. Peepers, PhD (Peckin’ Hens Department).” The note was scrawled on the back of a Denny’s placemat and smelled faintly of feed.

“They’re therapy birds,” he insisted. “You try living in Bristol without chickens. These town meetings are unhinged.”

Neighbors are divided. Some say the chickens are loud but harmless. Others argue that Rooster Daddy’s birds — particularly one named Karen — have developed a sense of entitlement.

“Karen pecks my window every morning,” said next-door neighbor Bryan Elmore. “I don’t know what she wants, but it’s aggressive and deeply personal.”

Despite the tension, many in town have expressed admiration for Karen’s apparent intelligence and resilience. During a particularly heated zoning discussion last month, she wandered into the meeting and sat silently on a chair in the front row, blinking at the council until escorted out by the clerk.

One councilmember later asked whether the chickens were trained. Rooster Daddy replied, “Karen pecks when I cry. That’s empathy.”

The town’s ordinance, which requires chicken owners to notify “abutting landowners” and renew their permits annually, is not typically controversial. But as the story gains traction, legal experts are weighing in.

“If enforcement appears arbitrary or based on aesthetic preferences — like coop decorations or the perceived sassiness of a chicken — that could raise constitutional concerns,” said attorney Malinda Forsythe, who specializes in rural civil liberties. “The First Amendment protects freedom of expression. And if a man chooses to express himself through sequined poultry, who are we to judge?”

At the heart of the debate is a deeper question: what constitutes legitimate emotional support?

“I suffer from seasonal depression, minor trust issues, and an intense dislike of passive-aggressive holiday newsletters,” Rooster Daddy said. “These girls keep me grounded.”

He pointed to a hen named Yolanda who was sunbathing in a patch of mulch, wearing what appeared to be a crocheted vest. “She’s my rock. When my ex took the air fryer and the house plants, Yolanda stayed.”

Supporters have rallied behind him on social media under the hashtag #CluckInPeace, sharing photos of their own backyard flocks and calling for a town-wide poultry decriminalization policy. One user commented, “If we can’t raise chickens in rhinestones, what are we even doing as a society?”

The town council has remained mostly silent on the matter, with a spokesperson saying only, “We’re evaluating all complaints in accordance with local code and common sense.” An emergency session has been scheduled for next Thursday, where public comment is expected to be “spirited and possibly feathered.”

Rooster Daddy, who is preparing a formal defense presentation, says he plans to bring Yolanda to the hearing, along with a slideshow titled “Hens & Healing: A Journey in Feathers.”

“She’s got an outfit picked out and everything,” he said. “If they want documentation, I’ll give them documentation. And a TED Talk. And probably some cookies.”

Meanwhile, neighbors have begun organizing, with some pushing for mediation and others threatening to “build a duck pond out of spite.” One anonymous tipster claimed to have seen the chickens being trained to nod in unison during conversations, which has only intensified concerns about “organized poultry behavior.”

Still, Rooster Daddy remains defiant.

“I will not be silenced,” he said, holding up a small glittery sign that read Peck Yes I Can. “They can regulate permits. But they can’t regulate love. Or feathers. Or sparkle.”

As the sun set behind Cluckingham Palace, a soft clucking filled the yard. Yolanda stood on the coop’s roof, surveying the lawn like a general preparing for battle.

If Bristol wants a showdown, it seems they’ll be facing more than just a man and some hens. They’ll be facing a movement.

One peck at a time.