A couple months ago we had a farmer friend over for dinner and we got to talking about the specifics of what it’s been like for her to raise chickens and turkeys. During the course of our chat she mentioned — in a completely matter of fact way because it is, at this stage of the industrial food complex, a complete matter of fact — that she’s got to order her birds each year from a hatchery. And that these birds are delivered to her through the good ole US Postal Service within a couple of days of their birth.

It was meant to be an unimportant, inoffensive detail within a larger discussion of the cost of organic grain. And I suppose it was a detail that reflected a reality I’d already been made familiar with. But I must have somehow managed to forget it, because when I was reminded of the image of fragile, helpless, utterly disoriented chicks chirping in a box aboard an airplane and, later, in the back of a post office, I was totally distressed.

There’s the obvious animal welfare concern in this scenario, even if these birds are headed to a blissful life on a small farm with yummy, chemical-free grain and soil rife with grubs. (Would you put a newborn puppy in a box and freight it a couple hundred miles?) But what’s more upsetting is the underlying issue that points to a more complex concern that I’m having trouble articulating. Though generally it is something like this: The chickens we eat can no longer have sex and procreate the way nature intended. Even the birds we’re buying from reliable, local farmers.

Oh yeah, that goes for turkey too. Even the heritage breeds.

To be clear, this is not meant to be a criticism of our farmer friend, or any local farmer that continues to raise poultry — especially those farmers who, like our friend, are going to great lengths to give these birds the finest life they can. I’m not sure it’s meant to be a criticism at all. Maybe just a public proclamation that there is something seriously disturbing about the genetic state of poultry and the corresponding cavalier relationship we all — even us self-identified good eaters — have with eating it.

This is, I suppose, a coda to an earlier post, written from a slightly more repulsed perspective after having read the entirety of Jonathan Safran Foer’s Eating Animals. It’s excellent book, though his argument for vegetarianism is tragically incomplete — he overlooks the fact that welfare issues extend to dairy animals and laying hens. However, he makes several strong points against eating poultry, including:

1. What do any of us know about the hatcheries whence our birds come from? What kind of conditions are their parents living in?
2. Birds aren’t capable of reproducing because their genetics have been so manipulated by the market. “By design they can’t live long enough to reproduce.”

When was the last time you heard someone pass on a piece of breast meat, explaining “I’m sorry, I only eat red meat.”

Never. Which is to say, it’s sort of like chicken isn’t even meat anymore. Or like it doesn’t come with any environmental, health or economic issues worth measuring — at least not compared to beef or pork. Though, when you really think about it, grass-fed beef might be the most actually sustainable kind of meat you can eat. The total inputs are grass and water, compared with shipped in grain for chicken (plus, the life and death of one steer feeds many, many more mouths than the life and death of one chicken).

For no particular reason, Darry and I only eat chicken about three or four times a year. Compared to the 221 pounds (or roughly 37 birds) the average American consumes. I suppose it’s because it’s been harder to find, and more expensive, than ground beef or sausage. When we do buy poultry, we’re purchasing whole birds for an average of $25. Usually they come from Stillman’s. Once from Misty Knoll, though, after not receiving any response to our inquiries for more info on their practices, that will be the last time. It’s worth noting that Pete + Jen’s Backyard Birds seem like a great option, if you can buy before they sell out.  Other small producers, like our friend, are great too. Absolutely nothing from the supermarket is acceptable. You’re fooling yourself if you buy that Bell & Evans bullshit.

Because it’s already so minimal, I doubt we’ll be scaling back our chicken purchases at all. But we might be thinking differently about it when we do eat chicken. We’re still formulating those thoughts. Please, weigh in!