What if all of the “domesticated” and confined animals could unite and turn the tables so that they were farming humans, rather than humans farming them? I have watched documentaries and seen long lines of chickens in tiny cubicles, stacked several layers high. Only their heads protruded from their small coffin-like existence in a kind of living mausoleum, while waiting to be slaughtered for human consumption. Between the two lines of thousands of chickens, lies a path that humans walk along to provide feed and water and probably, to remove any that are not faring well. What are these chickens feeling and saying to each other? These chickens will never know the smell of fresh air, or feel the breeze fluffing their feathers, or the penetrating warmth of the sun, while sitting in a cubicle with nothing to do but eat and drink. When I see these images, I find my mind imagining humans poking their heads out of the small openings, instead of chickens; lamenting and complaining together about their plight, as cows, pigs, sheep, and chickens police the path below them.
I have been raising my five chickens for the past five months, providing them with healthy, fermented feed and special treats once or twice a day. They have been allowed to free range in my garden, partaking of the herbs and weeds and a few of the vegetables. I have loved watching their unique personalities emerge. I listen to their many vocalizations and I can recognize one of my girls by her voice alone, which is lower than the others. When I talk to them, they tilt their heads to one side, listening intently and trying to understand what I am saying, which is often simply, “I love you”. I always say good morning to them and wish them sweet dreams when closing them in for the night.
Chickens do not care for snow, but Buttercup was anxious to get out of the coop yesterday after being “cooped” up for three days due to the heavy snowfall we had. Once she reached the sunny porch, she kept calling to the others to join her; but when they did not come, she carefully made her way back on the path I had shoveled for them, but that had not yet melted. Later, Ivy made the trek to the porch and she too, called out to the others who did not want to join her. She was reluctant to tread the icy footpath a second time so I finally carried her back to the warm, dry coop to be with her sisters.
It is heart wrenching to think how cruelly we (humans) have treated other animals throughout our history. I look forward to the day when all domestic animals can be treated with kindness. Instead of factory farms, which are basically like concentration camps, all animals will be free-ranged, allowed free grazing, and have the freedom to be and to live as they are designed to. That day cannot come soon enough.
