“Just because it says free-range does not mean that it is welfare-friendly.”—Dr. Charles Olentine, editor of Egg Industry magazine, an industry trade journal (1)
Here is something I was unaware of… I will probably raise the ire of some, but, why is this large issue?
I eat meat, I eat eggs and at times, I eat crow. I was raised in a place where we actually had our chickens. We had a rooster named Butch and 5 hens, which for some reason, we did not name. Everyday we would go and collect the eggs and so on. We didn’t consider the feelings of the mother hens when we heisted their newborn and had them on toast.
It never occurred to us that there was some level of separation anxiety for the hens. Thought it was just their job. As kids, we weren’t sure why we had Butch, since he wasn’t all that equipped for producing eggs. But he was pretty cool, so we dug having him around.
A sad moment did come one evening however, when we discovered the ‘chicken’ we were eating, was in fact Butch. My Dad still recalls this as one of the ‘funniest’ moments of our youth. “I know, let’s kill the kids’ favorite pet and then make them eat it, won’t that be fun?”
We also had goats and various dogs as pets over the years. We fed our dogs’ table scraps and they seemed to do just fine.
Apparently NOW, feeding our two dogs requires going to Walker’s Fancy Dog Food store, where we can pay a lot of money for balanced food for their individual digestive needs. These are the same dogs that will scarf down anything they deem as edible when out on their walks. What they deem as ‘edible’ falls in the class of, dead things, old hamburger wrappers and so on.
We never give them chicken bones because they could choke. My friend once told me he has no issue with chicken bones for his dogs, since he can never recall seeing a choking coyote while growing up in Montana. He may have a point, I will check with the folks at Walker’s on this issue.
So the deal here is that there are chicken farmers, (ranchers?) and they make their living selling eggs and chickens. We buy them and eat them. When did the living conditions of these chickens become a huge social deal?
I’m sorry. They are chickens, and it seems to be their job. Do we really not have other things to worry about than how chickens are housed? At some point, the chicken will end up as dinner. How best then should we help their departure to the dinner plate? Should it be a last meal, a moment to reflect on their choices in life?
Sorry, they are chickens.
The biggest concern I ever had about chickens was several years back, when my friend, Ron (“Coyote Boy”), and I went to a local restaurant and the special was boneless chicken wings. Wouldn’t those be called McNuggets?
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