
Lets just use our imaginations, just for a moment, so picture this; imaging standing all day long possibly and to make it even worse have metal wires as your ground, you cant extended your arms, if you get stuck in any way you will end up dying just centimeters away from your water, all you hear is other people screaming of unhappiness, you see many people dead, you are hungry, it stinks so badly that your eyes burn, well, folks, welcome to the life of a battery hen. Just for the moment of imagination you have already felt some pain.
These eggs we need and I understand that, eggs are an important ingredient for cake, bread, cookies, donuts, scones, and many other fine treats. 300 million hens and 95% of them languish in cages in just the U.S. These hens live in cages so abusive that many countries have banned the use of them, but sadly the United States continues to use them. Each hen has the space of 67 square inches which is less than the space of a standard sheet of paper. A hen needs 72 square inches just to stand up. The hens are not provided with any nesting materials, and according to the book Raising Chickens the hens need a nesting material. When chickens get stressed they lose their feathers, so these chickens are close to bald so therefore it is easier to get an infection.
"I am battery hen. I live in a cage so small I cannot stretch my wings. I am forced to stand night and day on a sloping wire mesh floor that painfully cuts into my feet. The cage walls tear my feathers, forming blood blisters that never heal. The air is so full of ammonia that my lungs hurt and my eyes burn and I think I am going blind. As soon as I was born, a man grabbed me and sheared off part of my beak with a hot iron, and my little brothers were thrown into trash bags as useless alive.
My mind is alert and my body is sensitive and I should have been richly feathered. In nature or even a farmyard I would have had sociable, cleansing dust baths with my flock mates, a need so strong that I perform 'vacuum' dust bathing on the wire floor of my cage. Free, I would have ranged my ancestral jungles and fields with my mates, eating plants, earthworms, and insects from sunrise to dusk. I would have exercised my body and expressed my nature, and I would have given, and received, pleasure as a whole being. I am only a year old, but I am already a 'spent hen.'
Look for pieces of my wounded flesh wherever chicken pies and soups are sold."