Animal Writings

"I, Chad Haberstock, took a job as a "chicken catcher" for Brian's Poultry in southern Ontario, Canada on May 12, 2003. It was a horrible experience for my girlfriend and me, but it was even worse for the chickens."

"On the other farms, we were required to carry eight chickens at a time-double the number that we carried in the kosher barn. I tried to handle these chickens with care, but I could still feel their bones crushing under their own weight as I held them. These were not very big chickens, and we held four-each by one leg-in each hand. I was trying to be gentle because my heart went out to these poor animals, but I could still feel the chickens' legs breaking in my hands. Carrying four chickens in each hand puts a lot of pressure on certain chickens, causing their legs to pop out of joint or their bodies to crush under the weight of the other chickens. The swinging motion that was used to lift the chickens up to the loaders caused the most damage because the pressure of the swing and the weight of the other chickens pushing down on the leg of the chicken on the end caused the leg to shatter or pop. The loaders applied even more pressure when they grabbed the chickens out of my hands, causing even greater damage and breakage. The loaders grabbed the chickens very forcefully, shoving them into the crates. A few times, my fingers were grabbed with the chickens' legs, and it was surprising to feel how much pressure the loaders applied.

Around the loading doors, there were a lot of injured chickens, lingering in pain on the ground. These chickens had either been dropped by the loaders or were left behind in the catching and loading frenzy. Many of these chickens couldn't walk properly and, therefore, could not move themselves out from under our feet, so they were injured and crushed. In all the barns, including the kosher barn, I witnessed chickens who wandered out into the open being kicked and stepped on by workers, then left to die with damaged legs and broken wings. I also heard numerous callous comments from the workers, such as: 'They're not really animals,' 'I hate chickens,' 'I just want to kill them,' 'Just don't think about them,' 'Just don't worry about them,' and 'Just kick them out of the way.'"

"On the evening of Monday, May 12, 2003, my boyfriend, Chad Haberstock, and I accepted positions working as "chicken catchers" for Brian's Poultry Services (BriansPoultry.com), based in Mildmay, Ontario in Canada. We were hired almost immediately over the phone with no references and no questions asked. We had no idea what we were in for."

"When we arrived at the first farm, I learned that the chickens are kept in total darkness. The lights in the barn were turned up when we entered so that we could see to put down the gates that are used to catch the chickens. When that had been done, the lights were very slowly turned down again. Walking through thousands of chickens as the lights dimmed and the sound of electricity faded away made me think of the fear and confusion of gas chambers. It was like a bad dream."

"We were split into two teams, and as we approached the next barns, one of the workers started yelling, 'I get the runts! I get the runts!' When I asked him what he meant, he said that, in order to get a higher weight in the truck, they wanted to load only the big chickens and kill the smaller ones. He explained how he smashed the skulls of the 'runts' until they were dead."

"The next barn was absolute hell. You wouldn't believe what it was like unless you were there. We had to wake 38,000 sleeping baby chickens and terrify and break them. In this barn, there were none of the restrictions of the first barn. We were told to pick up eight chickens at a time and to hold each one by one leg-four chickens in each hand. Chad told me that he could feel the chickens' legs snap and pop when he handed them up to the loader on the truck. The chickens tried to huddle in groups, but occasionally, one would stray into the middle of the floor and get stepped on and kicked around. It broke my heart. I only worked a little while in this barn before I had to sit down because of the combination of exhaustion and emotional strain. I made eye contact with some of the young chickens, who were so little that they weren't even clucking yet, just cheeping. It just killed me. They started huddling under me for safety when I knelt down. Some people think that chickens don't have feelings, but it was perfectly clear how scared these animals were. It was absolute hell-there are no better words to describe that graphic scene."

Not breeding them just to be killed as soon as they were big enough (at about seven weeks) would be more humane.

(I happened to be talking to someone today, a non-vegetarian, about a rooster he had as a pet for three years. He was going on about how the rooster liked to be held and petted, how he would come when called, how he recognized people, how roosters are smarter than people give them credit for. This person had no idea I was a vegetarian.)