Want to rescue battery hens?
Before I go into this, let me premise by saying I absolutely am NOT saying that roosters deserve life more than hens. I’m not saying that people shouldn’t rescue battery hens or focus on their welfare- we absolutely should!
See, the thing about battery hens is, well, the average person isn’t cut out for caring for these chickens. They require someone who is trained in rehabilitation and can handle the emotional turmoil. They require more than free ranging in sunlight with grass and bugs to eat and dirt to bathe in- they often need expansive medical attention and care. You can’t just toss them into freedom. It is a major time, financial, and emotional commitment to prepare them for a normal life and you need to remember that these hens will generally only live another year or two. The extreme amounts of eggs they produce means that no matter how much you give them, the damage has already been done. Even if they’re spayed to prevent more egg laying it has still taken a toll on their body.
The other thing is demand..these birds don’t come into rescues very often; there isn’t some animal welfare group busting battery hens out of prison every week. They’re actually very hard to find! Most actually end up going to farm animal sanctuaries and not pet homes because they usually have the skill to rehabilitate them. So, even if someone DID have all the resources necessary to help battery hens, it would be a while before they actually got any.
Now that I’ve got that out if the way, onto my point:
And no, I don’t mean cock fighters. Nope, not broilers (meat birds). Just plain, normal, backyard roosters. Like this guy, Phillipe:
Well, okay, his situation was unique and he did require extensive experience with chickens. Known as Chet at the rescue, he was found with many others in tiny cages...not cock fighters. Likely just an animal hoarding situation. He went over a year at the rescue without interacting with any other chickens so it took some time to teach him how to be social that may not be best for the average person. But what about this lovely kid?
I got this cockerel and his brothers (unrelated cochin bantam and silkie who may actually be a pullet) from someone who couldn’t keep roosters where they live. There are LOTS of birds in this situation. Flint is a perfect gentlemen, he and his brothers required no rehabilitation or extra skills, easy peasy. I’m actually friends with his old owners now, they love their chickens but live in the city and can’t keep roosters!
And the most common situation? the fellow above. People end up with “too many” roosters and need to get rid of them! Luckily Razz came from a nice place that actually cares about their birds, the problem with him was primarily limited space (and silkie chickens are kind of dummies).
Roosters are EVERYWHERE. There is a constant demand for homes for cocks (adults) and cockerels (juveniles). And no one wants to give them a home! Why? Well a lot of it is the stigma against roosters, that they’re mean and don’t get along well with other boys. When you have hens this can be true, but a bachelor pad of cocks is just WONDERFUL! They make cuddly, sweet, healthy pets! Yep, no egg problems in these bad boys. Years of (generally) care free hugs and kisses to come when you adopt a rooster!
If you want to help chickens by adopting but don’t have the means to rescue battery hens, then just set up a bachelor pad- a coop only for roosters! Without hens you usually don’t have to worry about fighting or attacking you. And should you have issues, tethers work wonders- I have a cochin boy on a tether and it works out great. He’s very horny and wants to fight everything, so putting him on a tether lets other birds still interact with him freely but get away if he’s naughty. We’ve tethered several boys with excellent results, usually they can free roam after a few weeks- some do have a hormonal imbalance like my cochin boy (he’s happy on his tether, so no worries! it gets taken off in the evening after the others have gone to bed to let him run around).
Many of the roosters available are hand-reared pets that LOVE people and will make great companions. Now, they won’t lay eggs, but you shouldn’t expect that with battery hens anyways. You can often get fun and funky breeds, lots of different shapes, colors, and sizes! They all have a different crow and will amaze you with their dancing and singing skills. Roosters truly are wonderful pets that just don’t get a lot of credit.
If you’re interested, you can start by looking in your local classifieds (aka Craigslist in the US) where, depending on location, you’re bound to find a rooster in need. You can also check local shelters and farm rescues.
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Could you plz write Arthur with a drunk!so?!?!
Arthur Morgan w/ Drunk S/O
You were never one for liquor, you knew how badly it affected you. But, the return of Sean meant a celebration, and celebration in camp is synonymous with drunkenness - a chance to escape the harsh reality of the lives you all lived. Who were you to turn down such an integral part of the gang on such a momentous occasion?
You were a lightweight.
“What in God’s name are you doing, (S/O)?”
By the time Arthur had found you, more than enough liquor and shine had flooded your bloodstream to give you a genius idea.
“Whassit look lih? ‘m catchshin’ the majjjic birss so I cans flyyyyyyyyy!”
With a clumsy flourish and an unbalanced twirl you plopped face first into the grass, giving the raccoon you had chased up a tree time to escape.
“Oh sweet Jesus, (woman/man).”
You and Arthur had been sweet on each other for a while, and he’d witnessed, and dealt with, your drunken antics more than once - dragging your ass back inside when you insisted the blizzard outside was your long lost brother calling to you (you’ve never had a long lost brother), holding you back from stabbing Miss Grimshaw because she was ‘an impostor’, recapturing all the chickens you’d ‘rescued’ from the camp coop - the man knew what you were capable of, but goddamn if he didn’t love you anyway.
Just as you regained whatever minuscule awareness you had left and began crawling around looking for your ‘majic birss,’ Arthur decided you’d tortured enough wildlife for one night and went to pick you up around the stomach.
“Yes, come ‘ere and don’t struggle, I ain’t picking you up again if you fall.”
That was a lie, he’d still go running after you even if you punched him in the face and called him Micah - which you did, the last time Dutch let you touch the special rum.
Still, being in his grip seemed to have calmed you down a little, though you were still whining and muttering over your lost opportunity at flight. Arthur carried you over his shoulder to your tent, through a drunken chorus of sexual jabs from the rest of the gang (at least, from the members who were still conscious). He had just shifted you over a little, planning to lay you down on your cot to pass out semi-safely, when he felt your hands tightly gripping the back of his shirt.
Oh boy, here it comes.
If there’s two things Arthur had learned about you and alcohol it’s that 1) you’re a rare specimen of idiocy while drunk and 2) the idiocy is usually followed by clinginess.
“Darlin’, I need to put you down.”
He tried again to gently lift you off his shoulder, only to be met by a tighter death grip on his back. Returning you back to your original position, he tried yet again to talk you down.
“(S/O), y’need to get in the bed.”
“Goddamnit (woman/man), why not?”
You went quiet for a moment, and Arthur immediately regretted the harsh tone he had taken with you.
“….cause then you gotta leave”
Arthur could barely hear your response as you buried your face deep into his shoulder, but his heart fluttered at your soft and vulnerable words.
“…I won’t leave if you’ll just get in the bed. Just do that for me?”
He gently laid you down onto the cot, though your grip on him did not cease, shifting to the front of his shirt.
“This cot is not big enough for the both of us, (S/O).”
He chuckled at your pouting resistance, but stayed kneeled over the cot, attached to you by your iron grasp on him, until the comfort of the cot took over your tired mind and your body relaxed into sleep. Arthur tried to slowly detach from you, careful to not disturb your fresh slumber, but still met with a tiny grip on his shirt preserved even in unconsciousness. He looked from the slightly clenched hand on his chest to the now peaceful being in front of him, admiring your innocent face and following the rise and fall of your breath. Goddamn if he didn’t love you, he thought to himself as he delicately took your hand into his own rough ones and tried to fashion a makeshift sleep roll next to your cot out of materials in arms reach - that is to say, a single thin blanket and a book for a pillow. Settling down, quite uncomfortably, adjacent to you, Arthur now held your dangling hand against his heart. As much trouble as you were, and you were a lot, he would never leave - not now and not ever.
Whoops wrote two pages worth of over the top drunkenness with fluff. First Arthur request now ticked off! Hope you all like it!
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