I would definitely admit to fussing over mine and over-thinking them far too much. I would claim to understand most of their speech, I know which one of them has done which poop just by looking at it, and I can even tell from the subtle angle of the tail if one of them is feeling a little peaky. Sad but true.
I have been to the vet (with my sickly bluebelle in particular) on more occasions that I really should have done, mainly because I spend so much time watching every move, listening to every sound, and examining every poop, so that I am utterly in tune with their every physical ache and pain! They can't so much as get a little something caught in their throats without me rushing out there and worrying about imminent death from gapeworm!
On at least two of the occasions I've intervened when one of my girls was under the weather (and that's the key - they HAVE been poorly every time, it's just questionable whether they were poorly enough for the vet) I might have done better to save the hen the stress of a vet trip and treat her calmly at home. I suspect that on some of the occasions I've fussed and rushed them to the vet, they may have recovered faster, and with less stress, if left to their own devices for a few hours or so.
It's not nice being so utterly paranoid over your pets - I so wish that I could chill out a little and accept that I am not Chicken God with the power to make their every moment happy and healthy. It's hard to accept that they will get poorly and they might not make it, and one day I may not be able to do a darn thing about that.
It's a combination of too much love for the little fuzzy butts, and the desire to control EVERYTHING!
...Oh, and thinking that they are as capable of complex emotions and depth of feeling as I am - which clearly they cannot possibly be, with their tiny little brains that just think 'lay eggs, eat, sleep, pecking order, predator?!, sleep, lay eggs, pecking order, eat, predator?!, sleep, etc...)!
