Bold claim: Chickens didn’t just comfort Summer Farrelly—they unlocked a lens to understand people. And this is the part most people miss: animals can teach us about our own social world in ways we overlook. Here’s how.
Growing up, Summer—who has autism—often found people puzzling and unpredictable. Yet chickens always felt clear, steady, and approachable. The simple, predictable routines of a flock offered a mirror and a kind of social practice field. "My motivation to get through the school day would be being able to see my chickens again," Summer recalls. "And I know that they also looked forward to seeing me at the end of the day. They hug you back. It’s adorable."
Summer’s journey with chickens began at 18 months old, when a first chick sparked a lifelong passion. At one point a circle of 20 feathered friends surrounded Summer, and what started as companionship grew into a powerful learning environment. The birds became teachers, too. "I realised they had this social hierarchy that was really intricate, and they all had these little personalities," Summer says. Watching how the flock interacted echoed the way kids on the playground navigated social space. With their autistic brain, Summer started making connections and began engaging with peers in a similar, observed pattern.
This insight grew into a mission: helping other children. Now studying zoology at the University of New England in Armidale, Summer reflects on how the chicken-based approach could support autistic kids beyond their own life. At 12, they authored Chickens to Love and developed an animal-assisted learning program designed to teach social dynamics, self-advocacy, and emotional self-regulation. The program began with a Bundaberg disability group that serves young autistic people.
A key activity invites participants to observe chickens to identify their own emotions—a technique Summer found crucial when they were younger. "When you’re with animals, they can tell how you’re feeling, and when they back off, it helps you realise that the way you act impacts other people," they explain.
Summer emphasizes that the program isn’t about forcing neurodivergent individuals to become neurotypical. Instead, it flips the script: it’s about neurotypical people understanding neurodivergent perspectives better, and recognizing that everyone processes thoughts and communicates differently.
Mother’s journey mirrors Summer’s: Cynthia Farrelly initially wasn’t fond of chickens, but over time grew to love them. As Summer navigated autism, Cynthia also began exploring her own path, and at 39, she received an autism diagnosis.
Today, Summer collaborates virtually with disability support groups and individual workers to deliver Chickens to Love. The framework isn’t limited to chickens—other animals can substitute, though Summer notes that many people still prefer keeping chickens because of their remarkable qualities.
If you’re curious about how simple interactions with animals can illuminate human relationships, or you’re considering similar programs for neurodivergent learners, this story offers a practical, compassionate blueprint. What do you think about using animals in social-emotional learning? Should schools or community programs expand these kinds of animal-assisted approaches, or are there limits to their applicability?
