Save the Chickens

When I first posted this three-worded message "SAVE THE CHICKENS", I didn't realize it will raise hell with some people. The three-worded message turned out to be a trinitrotoluene bomb that looks more likely to spark another revolution.

A United States Federal District Court reportedly once tried a case against a fighting cock for accidentally killing another chicken. The poor bird got acquitted though, no thanks to a lawyer who prior to the case did not know anything about the avian species.

The high profile case may be the highest recognition there is, although in some despicable way, of the true worth of chickens. But that's America. The bedrock of democracy.

This gives me the curiosity to think deep into the true worth of the oft-abused creature in the light of chickenity (well, that's I guess the equivalent of humanity).

You move around and you cannot count by your fingers the number of lechon manok (roasted chicken) stalls in the country. Davao to be specific. They come by different stalls and packaging although they will most likely taste just about the same. Not to mention too the stalls and stores selling chicken barbecue. Oh, lest we forget the McDonaldses and the Jollibees.

And yes, let's all shoot it once and for all, just about anything in a chicken's anatomy is sold but the beak, nails and the feathers.

From neck, butt, intestines, liver, heart and feet. Name it, they cook it.

Imagine how many chickens are slaughtered in a day to feed people?

You might accuse me outright of stupidity and hypocrisy, but hell, wait. Can we stop a minute and reflect on the poor life of a chicken?

Smarter than dogs, much much smarter than horses, the chicken is by far the most abused animal on the planet. Raised on cages less than a square foot, they are pumped up with antibiotics in order to survive the moment they are hatched in conditions that would otherwise kill them. Genetically altered so that they grew twice as fast. Sent out to the slaughterhouse after only six weeks of living. They are picked to death in extreme brutality. Sliced in the neck, squeezed out of their blood, some are electrocuted, then bathed in boiling water before their feathers are pulled out one by one.

The brutality does not end there.

It's not good to be a chicken.

What has the chicken done to deserve this? And we even used comic images of a happy chicken to advertise our businesses? Look, we even forced a poor chicken to endorse a shoe brand (adidas) even without a contract. We could have gotten him a better deal with Nike, although that would be moot and academic since nobody would rather eat an Air Chicken.

What have the poor birds done for us to call them foul…errr fowl?

I am not saying all of them end up dying an unhappy life. The lucky ones—we call them cocks—as lucky as their human counterparts, end up as fighting cocks. They live up to two years and with a record as good as Manny Pacquiao, they get to retire as studs and enjoy a new career as a f_cking cock.

But not every chicken ends up a good cock.

Most end up in the hands of a good cook.

When I was younger and the chickens were not genetically bred, native as we may call them, chickens are a joy to watch. The newly hatched chicks get to spend a family life with mother hen and father rooster. They may eventually find their way to the marketplace or to our cauldron but at the least before they do, they were once happy chickens. That’s the reason why native chickens taste better than their steroidal counterparts.

Today’s chicken no longer enjoys family life. The moment they are hatched, they are worked up like Arnold Schwarzeneggers all through their six-week life span.

I feel for the poor bird. Most especially now that the days are ticking before Christmas. By mid-November, this planet will start incubating millions of eggs in time for Christmas. Isn’t Christmas the time to celebrate birth? Here we are, preparing for the birth of millions of chickens that we will kill, instead of celebrating their birth on the same day the Creator of chickenkind was born.

Let’s make a difference this Christmas. Let the chickens spend the celebration of chickendom—alive.