Sounds of a Battery Hen

You can tell me: if you come by the
North door, I am in the twelfth pen
on the left-hand side of the third row
from the floor; and in that pen
I am usually the middle one of three.
But even without directions, you'd discover me.
We have the same orange-red comb,
yellow beak and auburn feathers,
but as the door opens and you hear
above the electic fan a kind of
one-word wail, I am the one
who sounds the loudest in my head.

~ Karen Davis, United Poultry Concerns
Email: [email protected] 

adapted from an anonymous poem

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