My Girls

I recently applied for a voluntary position at the well known and accredited charity 'The Woodland Trust'. This short piece of work was something I quickly rustled up and sent in along with my application. Enjoy!

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My Girls: A Brief Account of our Changing Relationship with Backyard Hens

Surveying his flock in a manner that can only be described as ‘underwhelmed’ and ‘indifferent’, the proprietor of North Lodge Farm beckoned me towards the stables where his now juvenile hens resided. Cautiously treading the concrete floor, I tried to move as gently as possible for fear of disturbing the birds or giving them any cause for fright. Chickens after all are known for being flighty, and I didn’t want to rile the flock in case it should prove them difficult to catch for the farmer. I recollected my own feeble attempts to catch escapee hens in my younger days – chasing them down the road as I looked to herd them into a quiet corner, lunging towards them with hands splayed, eyes closed, only to have them dart around me or fly over the wall into the neighbouring field or garden. Yet such a task was, perhaps unsurprisingly, not so troublesome for the farmer. Who, after pointing and grunting at a few certain hens, encouraging me that they were almost ready to lay – “see how their wattle and comb are developing” – thrust his hand into the flock itself and wrestled them into submission, as though selecting items from a lucky dip. And before I knew what was happening there they were, dangling from their feet, wings partially let loose, eyes surveying the scene around them as they were carried over their remaining flock and out of the stable. My girls.

The boom in ownership of what have now come to be known as ‘backyard chickens’ hasn’t gone unnoticed in recent years. And with flocks of hens now making their way evermore into suburban households, I consider they’re daily presence in our lives is becoming far less of a celebration of the ‘good life’, and far more of a resurgence of the normal way of things. Owning chickens was, after all, the norm in bygone years. Small flocks kept in yards or community areas in towns and villages providing food by way of eggs, and unwanted cockerels born into the group made for meat once large enough. Such practice was easily quashed however, and remains fragile to this day. The constant stream of produce from supermarkets making futile the efforts of those who celebrate the regular ritual of finding “Not one, but three eggs!” in their laying box that afternoon. The growth in urban living hasn’t aided the cause of owning one’s own flock either. As people continue to filter into ever-expanding towns and cities, space becoming somewhat of a luxury, the convenience of the shops and supermarkets that lay just beyond one’s doorstep seems to make ridiculous the idea of sacrificing precious square-metres for the ownership of birds, chickens even!

Despite this, it now seems that our habit of leaving the farm behind - banishing it, its processes, and the way of life it introduces with its presence – has come to be questioned. As many find themselves longing to reunite with the realities of mass-scale domestication, as experienced on our farms. Others instinctively look to understand the ethics behind our modern relationship with food. Many asking, for instance, just how their food is made, where it comes from, and the level of care shown to the animals who find their way to our dinner plates – their sentience too, it seems, must be considered.

But is this not a step above and beyond the old-fashioned practice of owning and rearing a flock? Practice that lead to unethical and shunned sports such as ‘cock fighting’, and other such disregard for the well-being of the creatures themselves. Were they not considered dim-witted and docile, their instinctive desire for a life in the wild easily manipulated and replaced with one of submission, pre-determined by those who owned them? Has this new resurgence in backyard hens allowed us, even, to understand the realities of the lives of chickens who are reared and slaughtered en-masse? Of course not. Instead, it seems that we have developed a new faux pas with the creatures. Seeing them a step beyond simply domesticated livestock, and envisioning them more as pets themselves, as not-too-distant members of our own families. Evident in the manner in which many, myself included, brand their hens with personal names (from Henrietta to Margaret Hatcher) as one would a dog or a child.

I cannot help but celebrate the present popularity of owning backyard hens, for the act of caring and rearing a living entity is something that brings with it a unique education in feeling and practicality. However as I consider it further, I cannot help but question the motivation behind such ownership. On reflection, perhaps visiting a local petting zoo would suffice?

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