Colleen McHenry inhaled deeply, guiding her students through a peaceful flow. Suddenly, a flash of feathers – a chicken named Turkey – darted behind her, disappearing under the window curtain. A moment later, the reason became hilariously clear: a freshly laid egg nestled within Turkey’s brightly colored diaper.
This wasn’t a typical yoga class. It was chicken yoga, a unique experience unfolding at a Tampa hotel, where participants practiced poses amongst a flock of rescued chickens, each sporting a miniature diaper. Downward dog took on a whole new meaning with feathered friends wandering the mats.
Animal yoga – with goats, dogs, and cats – has gained traction, but chicken yoga is a distinctly local phenomenon. It thrives in a neighborhood teeming with wild chickens, descendants of birds brought to Ybor City in the 1880s by cigar workers.
“Sometimes it’s just so much silly fun that, yeah, people completely forget they’re doing yoga – me, too,” McHenry confessed, a smile in her voice. The chickens weren’t props; they were active participants, clucking, pecking, and occasionally choosing a yogi’s stomach as a comfortable resting spot.
The story of these chickens is woven into the fabric of Ybor City. Brought by workers from Key West during a period of upheaval, they served as a food source and were once used in cockfighting. Today, the Ybor Chickens Society works tirelessly to protect these iconic birds.
But for injured or sick chickens, there’s the Ybor Misfits Microsanctuary, founded by Dylan Breese. It began with a single rescue, a black chicken named Coffee Bean with a hurt leg, and has since blossomed into a haven for over a thousand feathered souls.
In 2021, Breese began bringing a select group of chickens to Hotel Haya for monthly yoga sessions, funded by donations to the sanctuary. Each chicken receives a pre-class bath and a carefully chosen, often festive, diaper – skulls for Halloween, holly for Christmas.
“I thought they would be stars,” Breese said, “And then they proved me right.” Their antics, however, were unpredictable. One chicken famously took flight mid-class, sending a ripple of laughter and momentary chaos through the room.
McHenry learned to adapt. Balancing poses became a test of composure when a chicken wandered beneath her arm. The usual serenity of yoga was punctuated by clucking and flapping wings, demanding a playful flexibility from both instructor and students.
“Yoga can be so ridiculously serious,” McHenry observed, “And then, all of a sudden, here we are doing it with chickens who are wearing overalls.” For McHenry, yoga became a path to healing after the loss of her husband, a source of joy and unexpected connection.
Breese carefully selects chickens comfortable around people. Marshmallow, a gentle giant abandoned by the roadside, Dottie, a blind chicken with striking plumage, and Raven, found abandoned at a bar on a Friday night, are among the favorites.
Participants initially approached with hesitation. Paris Porter, a nature lover, questioned the ethics of disrupting a wild animal’s habitat. But curiosity won out, and she found herself captivated by the absurdity and joy of the experience, even losing her balance a few times while admiring the chickens.
Amanda Bolli attended with her daughter, Nora, before classes implemented a no-children policy (Nora, thankfully, was a well-behaved attendee). Bolli admitted to being more focused on the chickens than the poses, and perfectly content with that.
Not everyone is convinced. Some yoga instructors argue that the presence of unpredictable animals detracts from the meditative experience. The constant need to adjust and react, they say, pulls focus away from inner peace.
McHenry acknowledges it’s not for everyone. Chicken yoga is about lightness, laughter, and embracing the unexpected. The classes are consistently sold out, with a waiting list each month, a testament to its unique appeal.
And while chicken yoga might spread to other cities, McHenry believes the experience in Ybor City will remain special. It’s a celebration of the neighborhood’s history, a commitment to protecting its wild chickens, and a reminder that sometimes, the most profound moments come from the most delightfully absurd situations.
