01-14-2018, 01:26 PM
I have been intimately cohabitating with a chicken (rooster) in my house for over four months now. I also have 7 more outside.
Living with Glee indoors has been an amazing learning experience. It's interesting that it's completely socially acceptable to have parrot type birds who live in your house and free range, but often people are shocked with the idea of having a chicken indoors. Often the cry is - "WHAT ABOUT THE POOP??" Well, unlike a parrot or parakeet, Glee is stationed on the ground, so it isn't this horrible unmanageable mess. In fact, the hour or two of flight time that my pigeons get out of their cage in a day makes way more of a mess than having glee out for 8 hours. We have laminate wood flooring so cleaning up his little hershey poops every other hour or so is hardly a strain.
But what I'm truly shocked about is how much more personality and inquisition he carries with him than my dogs. The tiny chicken brain has 2x as many neurons as a dog's, and that is apparent. Glee is constantly interested in his surroundings, and processing complicated thoughts and decisions. In many ways he is just like the dogs - he RUNS after he when I go into the kitchen, especially if he hears a crinkly bag (universal sound for treats/food in this house). He loves being held/cuddled/pet. And really, it's just a joy being able to get this close to a different part of creation.
Glee is an "oops rooster", a product of backyard farming. Many people buy tiny day old chicks, either from feed stores, or sometimes even they order them online and have them shipped. All hatcheries for egg laying breeds attempt to sex the animals at birth, and all suspected males are killed within a day of being born and ground up for pet food. Sometimes they survive, and female chicks who are sent through the mail are packaged with "extra males" for "warmth" and "padding". Glee is a "Rhode Island red" which is a "production breed", which means he was likely bought from a feed store. This means someone at a hatchery mistook Glee for a lady, which is the only reason he exists today. His previous owner obviously loved him (I can tell the difference now having adopted 7 chickens from the shelter), but due to laws restricting roosters in populated areas, they took their friend and companion and left him at the shelter.
At the shelter, Glee was housed in a dog run, next to all the quarantined dogs, and along a busy highway. My friend who had been visiting the shelter regularly noticed him, and noticed how much he seemed to love humans. So sent me a text and I just couldn't say no. We cleaned out our spare room, laid tarps and blankets down for easy washing, and moved a rooster into our house.
Sure, Glee will sometimes crow fairly early in the morning, but actually, most days he's quiet until after 7. But even the minor irritations are worth it when I put it into perspective - he is one of the lucky ones. He is one of the very few roosters on this planet who gets to live a normal life and die a natural death. And, he is my friend. He's not much different at all from a feathery puppy. He loves to watch TV. And now, he's basically internet famous, being the star of a video that has been cumulatively viewed nearly 3 million times.
Glee's life is worth so much more than the moment it takes to eat an egg, or a chicken wing. His life is a serious of moments that culminate into him being a being. He has friends, favorite foods, things he looks forward to. His eyes convey a deep array of thoughts and emotions, constantly. I was recently watching a video of a protest inside of a kosher slaughterhouse, and they had crates and crates full of Glees ("production reds") looking terrified, sick, sad, and confused. It was devastating.
When I see people eating chicken, or hear people talk about eating chicken, it is analogous to if a dog caretaker were to hear others glibly talking about eating dog. It's shocking, it's uncomfortable, and it's heartbreaking. I love all of my chickens immensely and they are each obviously individuals. Everyone has a personality, habits, favorite treats, and ways of interacting with each other. I no longer see a difference between chickens and dogs.
Living with Glee indoors has been an amazing learning experience. It's interesting that it's completely socially acceptable to have parrot type birds who live in your house and free range, but often people are shocked with the idea of having a chicken indoors. Often the cry is - "WHAT ABOUT THE POOP??" Well, unlike a parrot or parakeet, Glee is stationed on the ground, so it isn't this horrible unmanageable mess. In fact, the hour or two of flight time that my pigeons get out of their cage in a day makes way more of a mess than having glee out for 8 hours. We have laminate wood flooring so cleaning up his little hershey poops every other hour or so is hardly a strain.
But what I'm truly shocked about is how much more personality and inquisition he carries with him than my dogs. The tiny chicken brain has 2x as many neurons as a dog's, and that is apparent. Glee is constantly interested in his surroundings, and processing complicated thoughts and decisions. In many ways he is just like the dogs - he RUNS after he when I go into the kitchen, especially if he hears a crinkly bag (universal sound for treats/food in this house). He loves being held/cuddled/pet. And really, it's just a joy being able to get this close to a different part of creation.
Glee is an "oops rooster", a product of backyard farming. Many people buy tiny day old chicks, either from feed stores, or sometimes even they order them online and have them shipped. All hatcheries for egg laying breeds attempt to sex the animals at birth, and all suspected males are killed within a day of being born and ground up for pet food. Sometimes they survive, and female chicks who are sent through the mail are packaged with "extra males" for "warmth" and "padding". Glee is a "Rhode Island red" which is a "production breed", which means he was likely bought from a feed store. This means someone at a hatchery mistook Glee for a lady, which is the only reason he exists today. His previous owner obviously loved him (I can tell the difference now having adopted 7 chickens from the shelter), but due to laws restricting roosters in populated areas, they took their friend and companion and left him at the shelter.
At the shelter, Glee was housed in a dog run, next to all the quarantined dogs, and along a busy highway. My friend who had been visiting the shelter regularly noticed him, and noticed how much he seemed to love humans. So sent me a text and I just couldn't say no. We cleaned out our spare room, laid tarps and blankets down for easy washing, and moved a rooster into our house.
Sure, Glee will sometimes crow fairly early in the morning, but actually, most days he's quiet until after 7. But even the minor irritations are worth it when I put it into perspective - he is one of the lucky ones. He is one of the very few roosters on this planet who gets to live a normal life and die a natural death. And, he is my friend. He's not much different at all from a feathery puppy. He loves to watch TV. And now, he's basically internet famous, being the star of a video that has been cumulatively viewed nearly 3 million times.
Glee's life is worth so much more than the moment it takes to eat an egg, or a chicken wing. His life is a serious of moments that culminate into him being a being. He has friends, favorite foods, things he looks forward to. His eyes convey a deep array of thoughts and emotions, constantly. I was recently watching a video of a protest inside of a kosher slaughterhouse, and they had crates and crates full of Glees ("production reds") looking terrified, sick, sad, and confused. It was devastating.
When I see people eating chicken, or hear people talk about eating chicken, it is analogous to if a dog caretaker were to hear others glibly talking about eating dog. It's shocking, it's uncomfortable, and it's heartbreaking. I love all of my chickens immensely and they are each obviously individuals. Everyone has a personality, habits, favorite treats, and ways of interacting with each other. I no longer see a difference between chickens and dogs.