BY KERA ABRAHAM
Overstocked Cocks
Bachelor roosters need a home.
L
ife can be hard for young cocks.
They’re only valued for breeding
and eating. But for the most part
they’re just a nuisance — getting in fights,
bothering chicks and causing a ruckus. (Get
your mind outta the gutter. We’re talking
about roosters!)
As with cows, goats and marijuana,
chickens suffer from gender discrimina-
tion. The females are simply more valuable
than the males. Some roosters survive long
enough to become fryers, but poultry
hatcheries often kill rooster chicks unless
they can sell them for peanuts. Those who
make it out alive often end up where
they’re not wanted.
Lane County resident Claudia Bark
knows all about it. She’s taken in six young
roosters that were dumped on the road near
her farm west of Eugene, but now they’re
bothering her hens and they’ve got to go.
“These guys are teenagers,” Bark says
woefully. “They’re terrible at crowing, and
they’re bad lovers — totally inexperienced.
They make a lot of noise, they’re messy and
Name: Rex
Age: 4 months
Breed: Plymouth
Barred Rock
Likes: Philosophy
they don’t give anything back. My hens are
really mad at me.”
Bark blames a local farm store for sup-
plying many of the roosters that are later
abandoned. Coastal Farm Supply on West
6th Avenue gives away free chicks every
March, right before Easter. Coastal gets the
chicks — all males — from Shank’s
Hatchery in Portland for about 20 cents a
squawk. They’re cheap because they’re sur-
plus; Shank’s donates the rooster chicks it
can’t sell to the Portland Zoo and a local rap-
tor rehabilitation center, where they make a
tasty snack for carnivores.
Coastal employee Kristin White says that
the store posts a notice that all its free chicks
are roosters, but it doesn’t mention the law.
Within Eugene city limits, roosters are galli
non grati, banned by the city code.
Lane County Animal Control program
manager Mike Wellington says that most city
folk who end up with roosters just don’t
know better. But when neighbors complain
about the early-morning cock-a-doodling,
Animal Control pays a visit. Wellington says
Name: Smee
Age: 4 months
Breed: Plymouth
Barred Rock
Likes: Mead
Name: Gandalf
Age: 4 months
Breed: Buff
Orpington
Likes: Chicks
that most people are cooperative about get-
ting rid of their roosters, but where’s an
unwanted cock to go?
Sometimes people eat their roosters, but
the breeding types that Coastal gives away
are scrawnier and slower-growing than
game chickens. Some people simply ditch
unwanted roosters on rural roads. Diana
Huntington, a facilitator for the local
Overpopulation Crisis Coalition, says that
animal abandonment is illegal, but people
do it all the time, dumping rabbits, cats,
dogs, and even goats where they think no
one will see. Roosters are often found wan-
dering in the wetlands, where they are prey
to raccoons and feral cats.
When Animal Control confiscates a
rooster, staff members try to adopt it out to a
country home. But getting rid of roosters is
a tough task, Wellington says, and it has a
dark side. Some people use roosters for
cockfighting, which is a criminal offense.
Wellington lists the paraphernalia: “Gaffs,
which are razors for the legs; sparring balls,
exercise cords, tools and drugs; steroids,
stuff to stop bleeding.” But cockfighting
investigations just aren’t a priority,
Wellington says, and resources at Animal
Control are already stretched thin.
Name: Mo
Age: 4 months
Breed: Buff
Orpington
Likes: Doodling
Terror in the South Hills
Three days in a Sanipac prison
A
midnight scream echoed across the south Eugene hills.
The kind of desperate high-pitched sound that conjures
up images of eagles and weasels in combat, or a cat get-
ting its tail sucked into a vacuum cleaner, or a Pomeranian under
foot. It was in fact the sound of a small hen being mauled by two
hungry raccoons.
Banty was an independent bird. It’s why we got her, why she
became an urban chick. She had been abused on the farm, bot-
tom of the pecking order, raped by roosters twice her size. She
survived by flying over the fence and sleeping in trees, laying lit-
tle eggs in the woods.
She had a better life with us in our backyard. No roosters,
plenty of food, water and fresh straw, a small flock of friendly
hens to keep her company. But her wandering ways persisted, and
she was not always around when we locked up the hen house in
the evening.
Going back to sleep after that scream was not an option. I
grabbed a flashlight — didn’t bother with pants — and ran out back.
It occurred to me later that men charging into combat with wild
animals should always wear pants. I chased away the raccoons
and found Banty’s mangled, bloody body surrounded by feathers.
“You won’t have her for dinner tonight,” I said to the
retreating predators as they climbed the
chainlink fence. I carried the feathered
remains to the garbage can, figuring I’d
bury her later, somewhere the raccoons
wouldn’t dig her up.
I put off the unpleasant task a few days
and Sunday arrived, time to wheel the
Sanipac can down to the street. I expected
that awful smell of rotting flesh when I
opened the lid, but all that came wafting
out were the usual aromas of unrecy-
clables. I peered in. At the bottom of the can
l saw her little red head, poking up through
the trash, and it moved.
“You’re not dead,” was all I could say to her, shocked and
amazed that she had somehow survived not only a brutal
attack, but also three days in a hot plastic Sanipac prison.
I carried her to water and she drank and drank. Her legs
didn’t work, but they seemed intact. Her wings were OK. Bones
were showing on the back of her neck and she looked like she’d
been run over by a lawn mower. A hour later she was pecking
at corn and staggering around weakly. A few days in quaran-
Wayne Geiger, founder and president of
the Lighthouse Farm Sanctuary in Salem, is
also trying to help. His sanctuary provides
safe harbor for abused and neglected farm
animals, but he already has 17 unwanted
roosters and can’t take any more. “The
problem is, roosters aren’t needed,” he says.
“The ultimate humane solution is to go
vegan and not use eggs.”
But Americans demand dairy, so the
question remains: What to do with unwanted
fowl? Most hatchery-born chickens are bred
to breed — that is, to produce more egg-lay-
ing hens. But it only takes one rooster to
screw a hen house, so most feathered boys
are out of luck.
Bark, for her part, was ready to give her
six foster roosters to a neighbor to eat, but a
friend persuaded her to stay the execution
pending the publication of this article.
Besides, the boys are getting better with the
ladies. “They’ve been practicing their crows
a lot, and since they’ve been with girls
they’re more savvy,” Bark says.
Any rural chicken breeders out there in
need of some strapping young roosters? Call
Claudia Bark at 345-3806.
For more information about local abused and neglected
farm animals, visit www.lighthousefarmsanctuary.org
Name: Chip
Age: 4 months
Breed: Production
Red
Likes: Cheetos
Name: Thrasher
Age: 4 months
Breed: Production
Red
Likes: Punk music
tine and she happily rejoined the flock.
We watched to make sure the other
hens didn’t peck her tender wounds.
Chickens will tell you remarkable
things if you take the time, listen very
carefully and fill in the gaps between
clucks.
“Horrible monsters with bad breath
and big teeth tried to rip my head off,”
she says. “Worst than getting raped by
roosters three times my size.” (She tends
to exaggerate.)
“I remember being dragged by the
neck, then waking up in pain in a dark
place, bad smells, very hot, very thirsty.
Thought this is must be where chickens
go after they die.”
She hasn’t flown the coop since, but
she has a different look in her eye when
she sees me.
“Life for us chickens is hard and short,” she tells me. “People
steal our precious eggs no matter how many we lay. They take
our beautiful bodies and make us into sandwiches and salads.
They abuse us. They throw us away like garbage when they are
done with us.”
Chickens don’t do sarcasm very well, but I got the point. I apol-
ogized profusely. She gets cat food and comfrey leaves now for
special treats, and we will grow old together. –– Ted Taylor
AUGUST 11, 2005 13