PRISONED CHICKENS POISONED EGGS AN INSIDE LOOK AT THE MODERN POULTRY INDUSTRY Karen Davis, Ph.D. BOOK PUBLISHING COMPANY SUMMERTOWN, TENNESSEE Book Publishing Company P.O. Box 99 Summertown, Tennessee 1-800-695-2241 © 1996 Karen Davis All rights reserved Cover design by Warren Jefferson ISBN 1-57067-032-3 99 98 97 4 3 2 Davis, Karen, 1944- Prisoned chickens, poisoned eggs : an inside look at the modern poultry industry / Karen Davis p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-57067-032-3 1. Chickens. 2. Chickens--Diseases. 3. Eggs--Production. 4. Chicken industry. 5. Egg trade. I. Title. SF487.D27 1996 179'.3--dc20 96-45937 CIP Karen Davis is the founder and president of United Poultry Concerns, an international non-profit organization addressing the treatment of poultry in food production, sci- ence, education, entertainment, and human companionship situations. A portion of the proceeds from the sale of this book goes directly to funding the work of this organization. “In the tradition of Jeremy Rifkin’s Beyond Beef, Karen Davis has taken on the poultry industry in her thoroughly researched analysis of the gruesome, dirty and brutal lives of factory-farmed chickens.” Publishers Weekly “Davis documents the inhumane conditions of factory farm- ing, explicitly detailing the lives and deaths of battery hens raised in tiered brooding trays and of broiler chickens . Bolstered by unyeilding conviction, Davis argues her case with passion.” Booklist Table of Contents Prologue . 5 Introduction . 8 Chapter 1 History . .10 Early History—Beginning of the Modern Factory Farm— Reactions to the “Poultry Machine” Chapter 2 The Birth and Family Life of Chickens .25 When Living Creatures Become “Units”—School Hatching Projects—The Egg and Chick: Historical Symbols of Nature and Rebirth—Easter Egg Hunt and Egg Gathering—The Hen as a Symbol of Motherhood— Maternal Instincts of the Domestic Hen—Why Roosters Crow— Relationship Between the Rooster and the Hen— Bravery of Chickens—Formation and Laying of the Egg—Embryonic Development and Hatching of the Chick—Maternal Immunity Disrupted By Factory Farming: Marek’s Disease, Infectious Bursal Disease— Inside the Egg—Hatching—Mother Hen and Chicks— Commercial Hatchery—Treatment of Parent Flocks—Why Look at Chickens Chapter 3 The Life of the Battery Hen . .51 First Hand Impressions—The Cages—Laying Eggs in Cages—Diseases and Syndromes—Foot and Leg Deformities—Caged Layer Osteoporosis—Fatty Liver Syndrome—Swollen Head Syndrome—Salmonella— Antibiotics—Manure, Toxic Ammonia, Dead Birds, Expanding Complexes—Coccidiosis—“Cannibalism”— Debeaking—Dustbathing—Heat Stress—Mash, Mold Toxins, Mouth Ulcers—Forced Molting—Forced Molting Causes Salmonella—Disposition of Spent Hens—The Fight for Better Conditions Chapter 4 The Life of the Broiler Chicken . .83 Consumer Trends—Development of the Modern Broiler Chicken—Diseases and Syndromes — Orthopedic Disorders—Lucrative Research—Cruel Research—Troubled Birds—Sick Birds Going to Slaughter—Tumors and Infections—Obesity— Blackouts and Food Restriction—Other Diseases— Diseases Traced to the Feeding of Animal Products— Ascites: Pulmonary Hypertension Syndrome—Toxic Air—Excretory Ammonia—Overcrowding—Broiler Chickens in Cages—Dead Bird Disposal—Consumers— Invisible Contamination Chapter 5 The Death . .105 Numbers of Birds Killed—Manual Chicken Catching— Automated “Harvesting”—Transportation—Truck Accidents—No Federal Regulations—Shipment of Baby Chicks—Mass Transport Incompatible with Poultry Welfare—The Slaughter—Poultry Excluded from Federal “Humane Slaughter” Law—Slaughter Without Stunning—Pre-Slaughter Electrical “Stunning”—Post- Slaughter Electrical “Stunning”—Neck-Cutting—Ritual Slaughter—Spent Laying Hens and Small Birds— Gassing—Treatment of Unwanted Male Chicks—Pain and Suffering in Birds—The Fight for “Humane Slaughter” Protection Chapter 6 A New Beginning . .125 New Beginning—The “Free-Range” Chicken—See for Yourself—Cruel Experiments—No Federal Protection— Morally Handicapped Industry References and Notes . .144 Index . .173 4 PROLOGUE He woke up on the floor of the broiler shed with 20 thousand other bewildered young chickens under the electric lights, with the familiar pain in his throat and a burning sensation deep inside his eyes. He saw green leaves shining through flashes of sunlight, as he peeked through his mother’s feathers and heard the soft awakening cheeps of his brothers and sisters, and felt his mother’s heart beating next to his own through her big warm body surrounding him, which was his world. A crow had cried out, and another cried out again. He started—the spry, young jungle fowl was ready for the day, ready to begin scratching the soil which he had known by heart ever since way back when chickenhood first arose in the tropical magic mornings of the early world. In the jungle forest, the deli- cious seeds of bamboo that are hidden beneath the leaves on the ground are treasured in the heart of the chicken. The rooster called out excitedly: “Family, come see what food I’ve found for you this morning!”. His aching legs—they brought him back to reality as he closed his eyes stinging with ammonia burn—could not move. They could no longer bear the weight of flesh which bore down upon them, which was definitely not the body of a mother hen. A mother hen, an ancestral memory kept telling him over and over, had once shushed and lulled him to sleep, pressed against her body nestled deep inside her wings fluffed over him when he was a chick. That was a long time ago, long before he was a “broiler” chicken, crippled and incased in these cells of fat and skeletal pain. He was turning purple. His lungs filled slowly with fluid, leaking from his vessels backward through the valves of his heart, as he stretched out on the filthy litter in a final spasm of agony, and died. Karen Davis, “Memories Inside a Broiler Chicken House” 5 I remember how wonderful it was to peck my way through the shell and step out into the warm bright dawn of life. I have seen no other sunrise. We live in eternal noon- time. My birth was a grievous mistake. And yet an egg is developing in me, as always. I can’t stop it. I feel its growth, and despite all my bitterness, tiny surges of tenderness fill me. How I wish I could stop the egg from growing so that I wouldn’t have to know these tender feelings. But I can’t stop. I’m an egg machine, the best egg machine in the world. “Don’t be so gloomy, Sister. There are better times com- ing.” The insane hen in the cage beside mine has fallen victim to a common delusion here at the egg factory. “No better times are coming, Sister,” I reply. “Only worse times.” “You’re mistaken, my dear. I happen to know. Very soon we’ll be scratching in a lovely yard.” I don’t bother to reply. She’s cheered by her delusions. And since our end will be the same, what does it matter how we spend our days here? Let her dream in her lovely yard. Let her develop her dream to its fullest, until she imagines that the wire floor beneath her claws has become warm dry earth. We don’t have much longer to go. Our life span is only fourteen months of egg laying and then we’re through. An egg machine! There’s a great fluttering of wings along this cell block, and much loud clucking. The cages are opening, and one by one rough hands grab us. “You see, Sister. I told you better times were coming. Now we’re finally going.” Now we’re hung upside down, our feet are tied together with wire. “You see, Sister. It’s just as I told you—the better times have come at last.” We’re hooked to a slowly moving belt. Hanging upside down, we’re carried along through a dark tunnel. The wire bites into my flesh. Swaying through the darkness we go. The gurgling cries up ahead of us make clear what better times have come. 6 “Our reward, Sister, is here at last,” cries our mad sister. “We were good and laid many eggs and now we get our reward.” The cry of each hen is cut off so that her squawking becomes liquid bubbling. And then the sound of dripping: drip, drip, drip. “Oh, I can see it now, Sister, the lovely yard I spoke of, all covered with red flowers and . .” The mash runs out of her neck. William Kotzwinkle, Doctor Rat1 7 INTRODUCTION I did not grow up around chickens. As is probably the case for most people growing up in post-World War Two America, my personal acquaintance with chickens and other animals on the farm was confined to experiences at the table. There were some brief encounters with baby “Easter” chick- ens and rabbits way back in childhood, and a long sup- pressed witnessing of a brown hen beheaded on a chopping block with an axe by a playmate’s father. However, a chicken named Viva changed the course of my life and career.2 When I met her, I was an English teacher completing my doctoral dissertation in English at the University of Maryland. I had expected to teach English for the rest of my life. Yet during the mid to late 1980s I found myself increasingly drawn to the plight of nonhuman ani- mals in human society, particularly farm animals. The huge number of factory farm animals was astonishing. At the bot- tom of this pile were the billions of birds imprisoned in intensive confinement systems, totally out of sight. Farm animals were generally dismissed as beyond the pale of equal, or even any, moral concern because, it was argued, they had been bred to a substandard state of intelligence and biological fitness, and because they were “just food” that was “going to be killed anyway.” My experience with Viva, a crippled and abandoned “broiler” hen, put these matters into perspective.