A Leap of Faith
Driving the long flat stretch of road that makes up Route 16 in Delaware was never a pleasant experience for Carolyn Halleck. Dozens of dead chickens always lined the shoulder, their battered bodies relegated to nothing more than pile after pile of limp white feathers and legs. This was a main route for the many tractor-trailers carrying the young chickens from the packed barns where they were raised to their ultimate destination -- the slaughterhouse. Carolyn had never seen a live chicken on this road. The ones who managed to make a last minute escape did so at their own peril -- leaping from a speeding truck and falling many feet onto packed gravel and asphalt seemed hardly survivable. Trying to keep her eyes on the road, Carolyn hurried along as she always did. But on this day, something caught her eye. Looking in the rearview mirror in amazement to be sure, she saw that yes, it was true. On this day, one of the dead piles lifted her head.
Polly
This is the story of a "broiler" chicken named Polly, who against all odds, managed to survive what billions of her brother and sister chickens could not. Taken as an egg from her mother and hatched in a sterile incubator, Polly was raised in an immense windowless barn with thousands of other chickens. She was never allowed outside, and never saw the sun or grass. Lights were kept on day and night in the barn, to encourage the young chicks to eat constantly. After only five weeks, Polly had grown from a tiny chick to a hefty three pound young hen. She had barely lived, but now it was time to die. On a cold morning in December, she and her friends were roughly grabbed by their legs and shoved into wire cages, which were then stacked high on the back of a large truck. As the vehicle sped along to the slaughterhouse, Polly, terrified, struggled wildly to escape from her crowded cage. She somehow squeezed through the wires, plummeting swiftly to the highway below.
Badly injured, Polly was too weak to move. She lay on the road face down for hours in the hot sun, bleeding from the large open wound on her side where she had skidded across the gravel. Her wing was broken and her face was scraped and bruised. When Carolyn found her she was severely dehydrated and in shock. Wrapping her in a towel and placing her gently in the car, Carolyn continued her drive another three hours to her daughter's home, where she was finally able to examine the hen more closely. Having assumed that she would not survive the journey, she was surprised to see her still breathing, and greatly encouraged when Polly weakly drank the water and soaked dog food that she offered in a syringe. After a day and a half of calling local rescue groups, Carolyn finally found Poplar Spring, and we agreed to take Polly in.
The wound under Polly's wing was fairly extensive. The skin was gone and her muscles were totally exposed in a large six inch area that was filled with dirt and dried blood. Her left wing was fractured and the bone was exposed. Exhausted, she had little response to being handled. A trip to the vet confirmed that her wounds could not be sutured because there was too much skin loss. So we cleaned and flushed them and bandaged her side and wing, and started her on antibiotics. Since she was unable to eat or drink on her own we began administering fluids under her skin and tube feeding her. Polly became a little stronger each day as we continued this routine. After several days she finally began eating on her own.
Milton
Only a week after she was rescued, another injured broiler chicken was found on the side of a busy highway on the Eastern Shore. He was a young rooster, about the same age as Polly, and we named him Milton. Milton's comb was bloody and raw, where he had obviously fallen and scraped his head. Polly and Milton began their recovery together, in a warm corner of our kitchen, and formed a close bond that has made them inseparable to this day. Their wounds slowly healed, and they are both now happy chickens who love to spend all their time together. They cry whenever they become separated or can't see one another. They perch together every night side by side, and spend their days in front of the large barn fan when it is hot. Polly and Milton enjoy being outside eating grass (in fact, they simply enjoy eating!) and are now tipping the scales at over
10 and 20 pounds respectively, which is unfortunately normal for this breed.
The chicken industry has genetically manipulated broiler chickens to grow very fast and to have large heavy breasts, which is the primary part of meat desired by consumers. But this has resulted in birds whose skeletons often times cannot bear their own weight. They tend to have problems with arthritis and fractures, and will often die suddenly of heart attacks. The average life expectancy for the breed, even those who are rescued, is less than a year. We know we will not have Polly and Milton long, but we intend to give them the best life possible, to make up for their horrible beginnings, and in honor of the 9 billion other chickens killed annually in the United States, who will never have a chance.
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Polly and Milton enjoying their new life. |
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