Life was on our side: The hens who got a second chance

First things first

Ten days of preparation. One shared spreadsheet. 107 hens already had placement. 

A small group arrived at the parking lot at dawn, ready for what the day might bring. A surprise Craigslist post had brought us together – some of us meeting for the first time as we steadied ourselves in the drift of uncertainty. The post announced that a local egg-laying operation was shutting down and they were selling over 4,000 hens for USD$10 each.

The listing had caught the attention of local animal advocates, especially due to the nature of its language, which called the birds “laying machines.” This led to outrage among many people who view animals as inherently worthy of care and love, not as mechanical producers. I eventually discovered that the person who wrote the post had to use language that would prevent Craigslist from flagging it, which had already happened on Facebook Marketplace. The use of the words “laying machines” was intentional for this reason.

Within days, a support network emerged and created a lifeline for a flock of hens who had spent most of their lives in a dark and cramped barn, walking around on metal shelving and concrete. This is the reality of “cage-free.” What you may not know is that “cage-free” simply means that the cage is essentially one enormous cage the size of the interior of a barn, rather than the small battery cages often seen in factory farms. Both situations are horrendous. In a facility like the one we would enter later that day, the birds compete for food, water, space and safety. One worker told me, “you know the phrase “pecking order?” That’s what happens here.” Because this is an organic farm, any health issues or injuries that present with the hens cannot be treated, so suffering persists until they succumb, like the few dead and gravely injured birds rescuers saw inside the barn.

I had heard through multiple sources that we needed “all hands on deck” for this effort and although I had never been directly part of a large-scale rescue, my photojournalism work had brought me into conversations with a handful of animal farmers. I understood our chances and the intricacies of our approach. I had also seen how these animals live such limited lives, and if there was any hope we could rescue a few of them out, I was ready to do whatever I could. The hens were only about a year and a half old, and like most birds when their bodies get too exhausted from continuous laying and lack of care, they are sent to slaughter.

Who we can save

We knew we had quarantine spaces and adopters for 107 hens, and as the sun shimmered over the horizon, two of us went to negotiate with the farm workers. There are details I will not share here, due to the sensitivity of rescue. What I will share is that persistence and compassion worked their magic, and after being told that the remainder of the flock was already sold, we rescued fifty hens. Amidst our negotiations, I got the sense that the person who posted the Craigslist ad offering the chickens for sale was somewhat relieved that at least some of the hens were going to live much better lives from that day onward.

He made sure I knew what usually happened to hens at the end of their season, and said that he didn’t want that outcome. Maybe it’s a stretch, but I also wondered if he was exhausted from the exploitative industry of animal agriculture, and ready to be done. So often, activists speak out against animal farmers, and while I also get fired up about the ongoing suffering of animals trapped in the system, I wonder what would happen if we occasionally opened ourselves up to a dialogue, one that might enable more animals to be rescued.

On the move

Once we got word that we could take fifty, our small and mighty team sprung into action. Chills ran up my arms and neck as I saw three vehicles pull into the farm’s gravel road, each loaded with crates ready to be freedom rides for the hens. Earlier that day, an activist who helped with organizing sent me a text about how everything was coming together and said that “life was on our side.” This couldn’t have been more apparent than when the actual rescue was taking place. We lined up the crates at a safe distance from the barn due to health risks for the birds, and three of our team suited up with full personal protective equipment (PPE) due to Avian Influenza concerns and entered the barn. Inside, rescuers observed thousands of hens living on metal shelves in dark, cramped conditions. Though only approximately 18 months of age, some hens were already dead from illness or injury. Before another minute passed, rescuers were coming out of the barn with hens in their arms.

Within the hour, the staging area, a suburban garage, was a flurry of activity – an outstanding volunteer vet tech duo, hens checked for signs of illness or injury, offerings of water and medication, and notes to determine who needed the most critical follow-ups. Everyone came together in a symphony of care and attention, and by late afternoon all hens were on their way to individual homes or local sanctuaries that would quarantine them, and most importantly, give them space to feel free from exploitation, and to feel love, so much love.

Sun, dirt and healing

It was hours before I thought about the ones we couldn’t save. I was standing in my kitchen drinking a glass of water and had a moment to pause and let the day sink in. We left over a thousand hens in the barn. All that was possible at this point was to offer heartfelt prayers for their liberation, and glean what we could from this rescue to proceed with the next one, whenever and however it comes.

We didn’t know if Sage was going to make it. Of everyone who was getting seen that day, she was in the worst shape, hunched over in the back of the crate, her eyes closed, her bare skin raw and red. You could see that she was in tremendous discomfort. Sadly, after over two weeks of medical care, Sage was unable to recover from her previous life and rescuers made the difficult decision to humanely euthanize her. During this time, Sage experienced the feeling of freedom and made a new friend in Rosemary, another hen who was rescued. Rosemary was a grounding force for Sage during her final days. I can’t imagine the existence both hens led during the first year and a half of their lives.

When I visited them after the rescue, they were already so trusting, gentle and open to exploring my friend’s yard to forage, eat grapes, drink water, wander, rest in the sun, and take dirt baths – all on their own time. There is something deeply resonant in watching the transformation happen as the residue of exploitation slips away. Being in Sage and Rosemary’s company offered me a glimpse into a world I long for, one that kept the rescuers up late at night and ready to meet at first light, in the parking lot where we would make a plan to save who we could.

Life was, indeed, on our side.

This story was originally published here. Follow Diana’s animal photojournalism for more stories like this.