A poultry-positive reader in Colorado Springs passes along this recent UK essay about what one learns about science and the nature of life from watching chickens. Excerpt:
Watching chickens is a very old human pastime, and the forerunner of psychology, sociology and management theory. Sometimes understanding yourself can be made easier by projection on to others. Watching chickens helps us understand human motivations and interactions, which is doubtless why so many words and phrases in common parlance are redolent of the hen yard: “pecking order”, “cockiness”, “ruffling somebody’s feathers”, “taking somebody under your wing”, “fussing like a mother hen”, “strutting”, a “bantamweight fighter”, “clipping someone’s wings”, “beady eyes”, “chicks”, “to crow”, “to flock”, “get in a flap”, “coming home to roost”, “don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched”, “nest eggs” and “preening”.
You’ll even see that the boss cockerel tends to take possession of the highest point – the top of the heap. And the longer you watch chickens, the more you think of them as people rather than some strange alien species with feathers, beady eyes and a strange language. Squint a little as you watch them enact their various roles and you can see a brood of Sainsbury’s retail managers jockeying to maintain position.
Keeping chickens may not be the most efficient way to source eggs, of course, but then it depends on what is being measured. I benefit from eggs, mobile garden ornaments, endless amusement and companionship; I even learn from them. My nine-year-old budding evil-scientist son has learnt that evolution can go down as well as up, and that ground-feeding birds can, over generations, get larger and lose the ability to fly. He also discovered that rigging up a chicken catapult baited with corn can improve individuals’ flying skills, but is not likely to reverse the evolutionary trend and is very likely to get you into trouble. Fair enough: he also learnt to take care of them and understand their preferences and behaviour; he teaches them things, and they patiently go along with it as long as some tasty titbit is part of the deal.
Over to you, Astyk…
posted February 15, 2010 at 11:55 am
Thanks for posting this. It is extremely amusing because it’s true. I especially like the description of chickens “mobile garden ornaments.”
As one who (along with my family’s chicken-obsessed boarder collie) has spent many summer hours watching chickens, I too feel that I have learned from them — especially from our rooster, whose cockiness and jealousy over his hens is both and endless source of amusement and, I think, a quite accurate reflection of male human nature.
posted February 15, 2010 at 2:01 pm
A flock can manage without a cockerel, but a cockerel without a flock is nothing.
“Cockerel Around The Flock”: wasn’t that by Bill Henny and The Cockets?
Or am I thinking of “Cockerel Flock” by Sir E.L.T. On-John, off of Don’t Peck Me, I’m Only the Chicken Plucker?
? Cockerel flocking
Is something rocking
When the coop just won’t keep still
I never cocked me a better walk
Every bird must fill its bill
Oh, Henny Mama, those old cockfights
When feathers flew on weekend nights
And “Cockerel Flocking” won a Pu-u-u-let Sur-pri-i-i-ise…
Cluck, cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck…?
posted February 15, 2010 at 4:40 pm
“especially from our rooster”-
Indeed. And when one gets the rare rooster that is sweet and docile and jumps up into your arms, that’s science and world and sweetness all rolled up into one. Not to be missed.
posted February 15, 2010 at 7:06 pm
Thanks for the article link Rod. We’re wrapping up our first year of keeping chickens in our suburban backyard and the article really resonated with our experience.