If you are a conscientious consumer you already know that most eggs, that are available for purchase at your favorite chain supermarket, come from hens that are kept in battery cages. These cages are steel mesh enclosures that are so small that the chickens cannot stand up, spread their wings or in fact move about at all. They have no bedding to lie in, no dirt to scratch in, no fresh air to breathe and are so crowded together that they are driven to madness and often kill each other. This certainly is nothing like the natural life that chickens were meant to live.

I have not purchased an egg from the supermarket for many, many years – instead I have been buying them from several local farmers. I also do not eat meat or poultry unless I know from whence the animal came. Factory farming is harmful to both the animals as well as for those of us who consume them – the news is full of meat and egg recalls which proves this point rather well. In order to remove myself from the shackles of this very broken system of food production I have decided to raise my own chickens – and what a decision this has been.

Chickens have some rather unflattering reputations – they are dumb, dirty, mean and not very interesting animals – wrong, wrong, wrong and double wrong.

My coop and pen were finally ready and I excitedly went to get some chickens. In speaking with the local “chicken man” together we decided on a dozen hens and one rooster – 6 Araucana hens (otherwise known as Easter egg hens for the colorful eggs they lay), 6 Leghorn/Golden Comet cross hens and 1 Bantam male.

Chickens, even babies are not dumb. With a friend’s help we were ushered into the pen with the Araucana hens to pick out my own chicks. They were about 5 weeks old and very active. I picked out a beautiful hen with brown and blue feathers and in the carrier she went. My next grab awarded me with two in hand – both gorgeous ruddy red, black and brown feathered – in they went and out went the first. I tried to re-catch the escapee but she wasn’t about to let that happen. Around and around the pen we went – okay finally got her. In she went but out went the other two. “Chicken man” came in to see how we were doing about this time and realized that we would be there all day at that rate so he grabbed his net, scooped up a few – gently tossed the males up over a wall and handed me each hen for approval. Each hen went in but out popped the others. Well at this point the man just grabbed up all six, made sure they were hens and popped the whole lot into the box all at once – Whew and Thanks!!!

As it turned out I still managed to get the hen with blue feathers as well as the very pretty ruddy-feathered ladies. The others were equally beautiful along with one that bears a striking resemblance to Wanda Sykes – lovely red-headed bird with a great sense of humor.

The Leghorn/Comet crosses were a bit older and less skittish and went into their carrier with no fuss at all. The young rooster, with his slick black feathers and bright red comb and wattle, was also quite bold and as many young, car-happy men do, eageerly jumped into his tricked-out cardboard “ride”.

Disembarking from their short journey they all entered their new environment with curiosity and gusto. Each one enthusiastically explored every inch of their coop and pen. Scratched here, dug there, jumped here, flapped their wings there, pecked at this pecked at that and they all came running when dinner was served.

They are safely locked into their coop at night (we have a variety of wildlife that would love a chicken dinner – fox, hawks, coyotes, turkey buzzards and feral cats). Each morning before dawn I open the coop door and out they go ready to conduct very important chicken business – more scratching, digging, flapping, perching and pecking. They come running to the fence to greet me and Marceux the rooster often crows his hello. All have distinct personalities and the Araucanas have all been named. The crossbreds are a bit less distinct but as their adult feathers come in I have noticed some gold coloration – this may make it easier to name these gals.

As they settle into the coop every night they huddle together for security and companionship. Making my nightly head count I gently lay my hand on the back of each hen. For this effort I am rewarded with a lovely soft cooing – the definitive sound of contentment that I am pleased I helped to provide.

I cannot imagine any one of these chickens crammed into a steel cage with nothing to do. It saddens me to think of any chicken in such circumstances – they are active, lively, endearing creatures and deserve nothing less than a life lived as natured intended.

Please, please, please – when buying products that come from living creatures consider where and how the animals’ have lived (and died) to provide you nourishment – please buy local.