I Am A Factory Raised Laying Hen And This Is My Life (Part Two)

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I Am A Factory Raised Laying Hen And This Is My Life (Part Two)

I am a factory raised laying henwith a story no different thanmultiplied billions of other egg laying hens who have also been caught in aninescapable web of cruelty. We cannot run, and we cannot hide. We will experience the most heinoustreatmentimaginable every hour of our existence until our lives are cut short at the slaughterhouse. This is my story... This is our story.

The Next Prison

I am now five months old and have never been out of this crowded cage in the entirety of my tortured life. My feet are almost formed to the metal bars and I am in constant pain. I have never spread my wings nor walked nor done anything that is natural. It is evening and another brutal hand has entered my ten square inch space and is roughly grabbing me and extricating me from the only cage I have ever known and is flinging me into an even smaller cage. Another bone breaks. The pain is unbearable. How can this be? Nothing on earth could prepare one for such an evil existence.

My new prison is horrifying. My cage is somewhere among the multitude of rows and stacks that seem to go on forever. I am being pecked by another debeaked hen who is going mad from the stress. Again my feet can find nowhere to stand and they are once again painfully forming around the metal mesh. I have about 6 square inches in which to move. How I long to extend my wings and how unnatural that I cannot. I would give mysoul(yes I have a soul)to be able to walka mere couple of feet but alas it is impossible. I cannot move.

One of my cagemates has died and is rotting (shehas been dead for weeks)and I stand on her to give me a bit of footing and to ease the terrible paincaused bymy feet being formed around the wire. Our cage is slanted so that the eggs that are forced from my body at an exaggerated rate can roll away onto a conveyorand thenit willbe boxed for your breakfast. The eggs that I have laid for the last two weeks leave my body and fall on the dead rotting bird that I have been using to stand on, and then they roll off to the conveyor belt. This same process is happening in thousands of cages at this very minute. Standing in a slanted cage with my feet desperately clinging to the metal is excruciating (that is why standing on a dead, rotting carcass is a luxury) and I am crowded by at least six other birds in an enclosure that is not big enough for a pet hamster. I have never known a moment since my hatching that was not filled with terror, and excruciating pain. I cling to life like any sentient being but this tortured existence cannotin any way beclassified as life.

So many of my cagemates and millions of other birds amongst the rows and stacks have gotten stuck in the bars of the cage where they can no longer get to food and water, and they die there or are left living, clinging to life. One of my cagemates is now in this predicament. Soon another brutal hand (that is the only hand she has ever known) opens the cage door and tears her off the bars of the cage. She is nearly split in half. She is then dumped into a bucket where other half dying hens have been tossed. Now a heavy boot comes down on the bucket mashing the birds to make room for others. Maybe this fate is more merciful. Maybe my half dead cagemate was the lucky one for being suffocated in the bucket. How can this be? Will somebody please rescue me!

My body is now spent after layingfifteen times the eggs that I am naturally able to produce. I have existed in a space less than one square foot throughout my two year long tortured existence. I am deemed useless, and so the cage door opens again and another horrible hand has grabbed me by my feet, along withseveral other hens, and we are being carried upside down. After beingescorted abouttwenty feet we are thrown into a shipping crate as though we were dirty laundry. Why is this happening to us?We are intelligent, curious sentient beings. We feel pain and terror like any other of God's creatures, and we instinctively know that this will be our last ride.

The Transport

I have broken legs and my feet are unable to move due to hanging on to the steel mesh for over a year and a half so as not to tumble forward and get caught in the bars of my slanted cage. I have lived in excruciating agony and unbelievable stress for every hour of my existence since my hatching. I am now being transported overeleven hundredmiles in the bitter cold and I am not given any food or water. Many of my fellow hens are frozen solid to the crate walls and are dead from malnutrition, thirst and unimaginably cruel handling.

The End

We have now travelled over eleven hundred miles and have arrived at the slaughterhouse. The sounds of terror emanate from the walls. My fear is more than I can bear. A cruel hand has grabbed me by the neck and is hanging me upside down in shackles. I am on a conveyor belt, and am heading towards the sharpblade that is to end my tortured life. Theblade finds my neck but does not kill me. I am upside down and bleeding to death and suffocating on my own blood. Now the conveyorisslowly but surely moving metowards a tank of scalding water. I can feel the blood seeping from my body and I cannot take in air. The horror and terror is beyond explanation. I am being lowered slowly into the scalding water to be de-feathered but I am still alive! How can this be happening to me? What kind ofsoul could inflict such cruel torture on another living being? They don't seem the slightest bit phased by what they are doing. What have I done to deserve this? Help Me! Please Help Me!

Now darkness...

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