by Crystal Sands
“A common charge made against the hen is that she is a silly creature. It is a false charge. A hen is an alarmist, but she is not silly. She has a strong sense of disaster, but many of her fears seem to be well founded.”
~E.B. White “The Hen (An Appreciation)” 1944
When I set out to become a chicken farmer ten years ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of how intelligent chickens might be. I knew, most assuredly, they would be smarter than society had taught me they were. I had heard so many people refer to chickens as “stupid” and figured that was ignorance on the part of the people. After all, it’s easier when we think the animals we eat are dumb.
Still, I had my own set of misconceptions. I had not been around chickens since I was a little girl. My great grandmother was a chicken keeper. I remember helping her collect the eggs when I was about five years old, and one of her hens pecked me. The hens seemed so big and scary in that dark coop, and I became a little bit afraid of chickens. It was a surprise to many who knew me when I developed an interest in chickens, and after getting our first little batch of baby chicks in the mail years ago, I was surprised by how much I fell in love with them. I was also surprised by how complex, interesting, and brilliant chickens really are.
What I learned about chicken intelligence and emotion rattled me, pushed against all preconceived notions, and led to an existential crisis of sorts related to eating meat. I am not a vegetarian, though I have tried to be at different points in my life. Eating an animal that I could see is highly intelligent and interesting presented a moral dilemma that took me years to work out.
A decade ago, when I first started researching chicken intelligence, I couldn’t find a lot of scholarly information. As an academic trained in the teaching of writing and use of quality sources to form opinions, I was surprised by the limited information. At that time, most of the chicken research I found related to big agriculture husbandry practices, especially the research coming from the United States.
The research about chickens was consistently focused on chicken productivity and had nothing to do with care for chickens as sentient creatures with the complex emotions I was observing in the coop everyday.
What I learned from studying my chickens, from living close to them and learning how to listen to them is there is a range in chicken intelligence levels and types, just as there are with any other animal, including humans. In fact, for me, the most surprising part of raising chickens was seeing how similar they are to humans in some of their behaviors, in part because they are very social animals as well.
Some are extremely curious; some are particularly curious about humans; some are sweet natured; some are jerks; some are shy around strangers; all of them learned how to read me rather quickly, how to work me for treats, and how to assess my motivations.
I have also had some stand outs, some chickens who are simply so smart and have such a capacity for human language that it’s a little bit frightening. What else don’t I know? If my little venture into farming has taught me anything, it is that there is a lot I don’t know—and a lot our culture doesn’t know—about the animals we consider food. I understand the history behind this, but times are changing. And, now, more research is being done.
In a New York Times piece published last year, Emily Anthes reported on a research study at Farm Sanctuary focusing on chicken intelligence. The researchers made the study voluntary in the hopes of measuring chicken intelligence at the high end. They are allowing curious chickens to participate in their study and opt out if they like. This may sound absurd to people who do not know chickens, but when given agency, chickens will absolutely take it. I am excited to see the results of the study at Farm Sanctuary. There is already a growing body of research on the intelligence of chickens, research that confirms and validates my experiences and, at the same time, opens my eyes to animal intelligence in general.
One of the first things I learned about my chickens is they are individuals and have unique personalities. In her article “Thinking Chickens: A Review of Cognition, Emotion, and Behavior in the Domestic Chicken,” Dr. Lori Marino examined peer-reviewed studies “on the leading edge of cognition, emotions, personality, and sociality in chickens.” One of her findings corroborates my observations: Chickens have distinct personalities like other complex, social animals.
After ten years of studying chickens, I have many stories to illustrate this point. Our rooster is named Rooster (unique, I know), but it stuck with us because he was our first rooster. Rooster was unique from a very early age. He was fairly passive for a rooster. Over time, I would come to realize he is one of the most brilliant and interesting animals I have ever met. He is a thinker, not a fighter, as roosters often are. He worries. He frets. He is always watching for predators, but when predators arrive, he organizes. He doesn’t seem to have it in him to fight.
The first time we had a hawk attack, I ran outside after hearing one of my chickens scream. I ran upon the hawk in the middle of the attack. The hawk flew away, and I found my poor hen alive but badly injured. I scooped her up, and she wrapped her little feet around my hands. I didn’t know what to expect. I started looking frantically for other injured birds. Instead, I found Rooster looking in the direction of the attack; the rest of the flock behind him, hiding in the forested part of their fenced area. I could see his face. It was a face of complete and total devastation.
After a little while, he got the rest of the flock into the coop—and he kept them there for well over a week. Our hen who had been attacked died; Rooster was very much aware. He would fret if anyone left the coop, and when I went to visit him, I would often find his head hanging low. His mourning was apparent, and his despair was profound.
Rooster’s capacity for language is such that I wish scientists could study him. He knows his name. He understands basic directions. I have seen him listen to conversations about himself.
In his older age, he has become far more interested in food than mating, and though he used to tidbit and give his food to his hens, he’ll now stand his ground for his organic mac and cheese. He’ll also take food from the baby chicks when they are in the main chicken yard.
Last summer, I was feeding the baby chicks when Rooster came upon the scene and ran off the babies. I scolded him. “These are your babies, and they need to eat.” I told him he needed to quit eating the baby food. He backed away, slowly and shamedly. I felt terrible I had made him feel so badly. I also wondered how he so clearly understood me. Was it my tone of voice, did he understand my words, or was it something else? It wasn’t a coincidence though because the story continues.
Later that day, my husband came into the house from working outside to tell me a story. He was surprised by something amazing Rooster had done. I had not mentioned to him what had happened with Rooster and the babies.
He was watching the chickens when he saw Rooster pick up some food and take it to one of the baby chicks. “I’ve never seen him do that,” my husband said.
I was shocked and confused. How could this be? I told my husband about the incident earlier that day and how I had scolded Rooster for taking food from his children.
We both agreed there really should be more research on chickens.
Our Rooster is not the only highly intelligent chicken in our flock; his genes have led to many others who are just as smart. We have hens who understand much of what we say to them, and they have found ways to communicate their needs to us. I have had a chicken with bumble foot stand at door squawking at me, holding up the injured foot, allowing me to pick her up and examine her feet. I have had more than one chicken give me a hug. I have had chickens who stood at my feet, looked up, and listened as I told a stories about them to my neighbor. We had no treats. We were just talking.
One of the most powerful observations I have made is how far a chicken’s intelligence will go when they are allowed to have agency. When a hen has some say in what happens to her, she will figure out ways to let you know what she needs and wants. Our hen, Ruby, cannot live with the flock. She simply cannot get along. For some reason, they pick on her. After a couple of years of observation, I think that reason might be that Ruby just doesn’t like the other chickens. Ruby likes people better.
A couple of years ago, we had a hen named Banjo who was much like Ruby. She didn’t fit in with the flock and wanted desperately to be in the house. She did get to stay in the house one time after a little too much of a beak trim, and she thrived. She sat on my husband’s shoulder while he worked on the computer. One time, she walked up to me and made the drinking motion chickens make when they drink from a bowl.
I didn’t know, but I wondered if she was thirsty. I got water for her, and she drank and drank. I am convinced she communicated her needs to me. She was a special chicken. But we have dogs and cats and didn’t want a chicken in our house too. One of my biggest regrets is not finding a middle ground for her. We forced her back out into the coop. One morning, I saw her standing in the corner, just staring, like she was losing her little mind. She died a few months later. I failed Banjo by not giving her agency. I vowed not to make the same mistake with Ruby. We have found a middle ground for her.
In the summer, when our garage is open, Ruby gets to live in there in a special crate just for her, and in the winter, when it’s cold and we can’t keep the garage open, she has to sleep in the coop at night but is let out every morning to run around the driveway. We keep her crate stuffed with straw in case she’s cold, and she chooses how she spends her days. She never leaves the safety of the driveway and is very good about dodging the UPS truck.
When my husband complains about stepping in Ruby’s poop, I say, “Do you really want me to force Ruby to live with the flock? You know she doesn’t fit in.”
Knowing we do not fit in well with the human flock, my husband agrees there’s nothing to be done but dogdge chicken poop. Over time, Ruby has won him over completely. Just the other day, I saw him go outside and then come right back in. He then went right back out. Ruby had asked for a treat, and I watched out the window as he leaned over and gave her organic scratch, which she promptly gobbled.
I have a thousand stories, but I have found, more often than not, I get labeled as a “crazy chicken lady,” or people will say, “Your chickens are so unique.” But my chickens are not unique. There is a range in chicken intelligence, just as there is a range in all animals. Chickens like mine are possible a million times over. The reality is simply this: Chickens are intelligent creatures.
The research coming now and gradually making its way into mainstream media is doing much prove this. Lori Morino’s meta-analysis of peer-reviewed studies of chicken cognition shared important findings, such as the fact chickens can demonstrate self-control, have complex positive and negative emotions, are capable of logical inference, and are behaviorally sophisticated. Dr. Morino also points to research on perceptions of chickens and emphasizes people are so misinformed about chicken intelligence that they often even consider chickens as being somehow lesser than other birds. That’s some bias.
What do we do as a culture when we learn this is not true? And we are learning this. In addition to scientific research that finally addresses chickens in an honest and respectful way, there are more people like me out there—people who got chicken and saw for themselves how intelligent and interesting these birds are. But what does this mean for our chicken sandwiches, chicken strips, and $5 rotisserie chickens at Costco?
It’s not a comfortable position to be in, but farming and living closely with animals has helped me understand some things: Eating meat is necessary for some people, and there are people throughout the world who are able to raise chickens to feed their families because chickens are hardy and efficient and nutritious. Moreover, there is a growing body of evidence pointing to the benefits of animal protein. In her book, Defending Beef, Nicolette Hahn Niman points out that meat is incredibly nutrient rich and asserts “the high-quality nutrition from meat and milk would be difficult to replace with food from plants, especially for people in the developing world and children everywhere.”
But there definitely needs to be change in how chickens are treated. We can exploit and abuse chickens because they are amazingly resilient. Chickens are tougher than I ever could have imagined. They are survivors, so much so that humans can farm them in situations that are torturous to them mentally and physically. We must, as a culture, come to terms with the undeniable fact that they deserve better treatment.
As small farmers, when my husband and I process a chicken for food, it is done with prayer and with respect. That chicken has “one bad day,” and really, it’s more like “one bad moment.” We researched the most humane death, and it comes quickly and with enormous mourning and gratitude. I know the sacrifice that has been unwillingly made for me.
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I will work to serve the animals who serve me, and I will work to educate every single person who will listen about the intelligence of chickens.