Karen Davis, PhD,
AlterNet.org
April 2018
May is International Respect for Chickens Month. Now is the time to realize how horribly we've treated these sensitive, emotional animals.... If rescued hens were flowers, it would be like watching a flower unfold, or in the case of a little flock of rescued hens set carefully on the ground together, a little field of flowers transforming themselves from withered stalks into blossoms.
Photo Credit: Tatevosian Yana/Shutterstock
May 4th is International Respect for Chickens Day and May is
International Respect for Chickens Month. United Poultry Concerns launched
this project in 2005 to celebrate chickens throughout the world and protest
the bleakness of their lives in farming operations. This month is the time
to do an action for chickens to educate others about the plight—and
delight—of chickens and how we can help them.
The poultry industry represents chickens as mentally vacuous, eviscerated
organisms. Hens bred for egg production are said to be suited to a cage,
with no need for personal space or normal foraging and social activity. They
are characterized as aggressors who, notwithstanding their proclaimed
passivity and affinity for cages, cannot live together without first having
a portion of their sensitive beaks burned off—otherwise, it is said, they
will tear each other up. Similarly, the instinct to tend and fuss over her
eggs and be a mother has been rooted out of these hens (so it is claimed),
and the idea of one's having a social relationship with such hens is
dismissed as silly sentimentalism.
Photo of hens in industry trash bucket by Mercy for Animals
Over the years, we've adopted hundreds of "egg-type" hens into our
sanctuary straight from the cage environment, which is all they ever knew
until they were rescued and placed gently on the ground where they felt the
earth next to their bodies for the first time. To watch a little group of
nearly featherless hens with naked necks and mutilated beaks respond to this
experience is deeply moving. Because their bones have never been properly
exercised and their toenails are long and spindly from never having
scratched vigorously in the ground, some hens take time learning to walk
normally and fly up to a perch and settle on it securely, but their desire
to do these things is evident from the time they arrive.
Chickens released from a long siege in a cage and placed on the ground
almost invariably start making the tentative, increasingly vigorous gestures
of taking a dustbath. They paddle and fling the dirt with their claws, rake
in particles of earth with their beaks, fluff up their feathers, roll on
their sides, pause from time to time with their eyes closed, and stretch out
their legs in obvious relish at being able to bask luxuriously and satisfy
their urge to clean themselves and be clean.
Photo of Charity with Freddaflower and Zelda dustbathing - courtesy of
United Poultry Concerns
Carefully lifting a battered hen, who has never known anything before
but brutal handling, out of a carrier and placing her on the ground to begin
taking her first real dustbath (as opposed to the “vacuum” dustbaths hens
try to perform in a cage) is a gesture from which a trusting relationship
between human and bird grows. If hens were flowers, it would be like
watching a flower unfold, or in the case of a little flock of hens set
carefully on the ground together, a little field of flowers transforming
themselves from withered stalks into blossoms.
Dustbathing is a cleansing activity and a social gathering for chickens.
Typically, one hen starts the process and is quickly joined by other hens
and maybe one or two roosters. Soon they are buried so deep in their
dustbowls that only the moving tail of a rooster or an outspread wing can be
seen a few feet away. Eventually, one by one, the little flock emerges from
their ritual entrancement all refreshed. Each bird stands up and vigorously
shakes the dirt particles out of his or her feathers, creating a fierce
little dust storm before running off to the next activity.
One day I drove to New York to pick up seven former battery-caged hens.
Instead of crating them in the car, I allowed them to sit together in the
back seat on towels, so they wouldn't be cramped yet again in a dark
enclosure, unable to see out the windows or to see me. Also, I wanted to
watch them through my rearview mirror and talk to them.
Once their flutter of anxiety and fear had subsided, the hens sat quietly in
the car, occasionally standing up to stretch a leg or a wing, all the while
peering out from under their pale and pendulous combs (the bright red crest
on top of chickens' heads grows limp and yellowish-white in the cage
environment) as I drove and spoke to them of the life awaiting. Then an
astonishing thing happened. The most naked and pitiful looking hen began
making her way slowly from the back seat, across the passenger seat
separator, toward me. She crawled onto my knee and settled herself in my lap
for the remainder of the trip.
Experiences like this have made me a passionate advocate for chickens. I do
not seek to sentimentalize chickens but to characterize them justly. In the
1980s I wrote an essay about an abandoned crippled broiler hen named Viva
who, more than any other single cause, led me to found United Poultry
Concerns in 1990. It is hard for me to evoke in words how expressive she was
in spite of her handicap and despite the miserable life she had had before I
lifted her out of her misery and brought her home.
My experience with chickens for more than thirty years has shown me that
chickens are conscious and emotional beings with adaptable sociability and a
range of intentions and personalities. If there is one trait above all that
comes to mind in thinking about chickens when they are enjoying themselves
and pursuing their own interests, it is cheerfulness.
Chickens are cheerful birds, quite vocally so, and when they are dispirited
and oppressed, their entire being expresses this state of affairs as well.
The fact that chickens become lethargic in continuously barren environments,
instead of proving that they are stupid or impassive by nature, shows how
sensitive these birds are to their surroundings, deprivations and prospects.
Likewise, when chickens are happy, their sense of wellbeing resonates
unmistakably.
Karen Davis is the president and founder of United Poultry Concerns, a nonprofit organization that promotes the compassionate treatment of domestic fowl. She is the author of Prisoned Chickens, Poisoned Eggs: An Inside Look at the Modern Poultry Industry and The Holocaust and the Henmaid’s Tale: A Case for Comparing Atrocities.