The ex-battery hen who got to grow old

Gretel is an 8 year old ex-battery hen. As she ages we listen to her and adapt her care accordingly.

You can listen to me read this article by pressing play above (but don’t forget to look at photos of beautiful Gretel.)

Gretel a week after rescue and Gretel a few years after rescue.

This morning Gretel did a great, big hop in the sun and flapped her wings as if she were about to take off. Five minutes earlier she had been barely awake in my arms, breathing slow, tired breaths. I had just crop fed her some avian crittercare to help her keep weight on, applied soothing cream to her dried out comb and kissed her feathery little head. Then I carried her outside, set her down on the grass, and as the sun hit her it seemed to fill her with a boost of joyful energy.

The end of Gretel’s hop this morning.

The first time I held Gretel in my arms was when I lifted her from a battery cage in early 2020. I guess she was about a year and a half old. She had a broken wing. Breaks were common at that farm. The hens were so calcium-deficient that bones snapped easily with the rough handling of the workers or perhaps a fight with another suffering hen. After rescue Gretel received vet treatment and a snazzy bandage. Before long, you couldn’t tell anything had ever been wrong.

She is eight now. It’s rare we get someone who reaches six and a half years free. It feels like a small miracle.

In 2023 Gretel was diagnosed with an inoperable tumour that had started in the reproductive system. No surprises there. These girls are selectively bred to lay way more eggs than their bodies can handle. She had already been to the vet to receive meds, but a day came soon after when she stood hunched with her eyes closed. Her feathers all fluffed up. She looked so sick and unhappy. When I called the vet they said there wasn’t much else we could do and recommended we euthanise her. He was kind about it, and at the time I agreed. She had no quality of life, as far as I could see.

Gretel has such wise eyes.

But when I lifted her onto the table at the vets she perked up a little. Her eyes became wider and she looked around. She started pecking at the stethoscope. I changed my mind right there in the appointment. I decided to give her another day, or however long she told me with her behaviour she still wanted. It turned out to be years.

Nearly all laying hens in all systems (battery, barn, free range) never get to this point. They are slaughtered at around eighteen months when their productivity starts to decline. The tiny amount of hens who are rescued usually face reproductive disease, cancers and laying complications well before what we’d call old age in any other context. If we are able to help them get to four or five years, we have helped them get to their version of old age.

Like all farmed animals, these beautiful individuals weren’t bred to live, they were bred to be used, abused and then to be killed before the body collapsed. Although it’s worth noting that many hens die during those first 18 months. That is viewed as acceptable loss and part of the business model.

Every elderly ex-farmed animal who has by some miracle ended up in a sanctuary is an individual who was never supposed to be here according to those who bred them. Their old age is something the industry never planned for any of us to see.

What life looks like for Gretel, now, is mostly slow. She sleeps in the house every night on blankets with a memory foam mat underneath, to support her joints. She is on regular hormonal suprelorin implants which are needed more regularly now, to stop her body from trying to produce eggs and to give her a fighting chance to keep the tumour from getting the upper hand.

I took her to the vet for a checkup recently as her comb is so pale and she is tired, but the blood tests came back clear. The implant does make the comb paler, but I have added multivet supplement to her water incase her body is lacking any vitamins. Bringing her in the house each evening lets me check on her properly. I can check her weight, listen to her breathing and check for any parasites which are so much more common in birds who have underlying issues.

Gretel doesn’t eat as well as she used to. We offer her layers mash, which is softer than the grain the others have. She was harshly debeaked as a chick, which means seeds can be difficult work. In the evenings, when I make the rabbits’ food, I hand-feed her some of their spinach. She loves cut-up grapes. Her depth perception isn’t great any more, so it takes her a few pecks to find the grape, but she gets there.

Sometimes after her crop feed, I preen her with my fingers and she preens my arm in return.

Gretel and me

During the day, as long as the weather is good, she goes back to her little flock at the back of the house. She hangs around with Jack the rooster, Cookie, Ginny, Tess and Heather the polish hens, Thelma the bantam and Pluto with her posh patterned feathers. Gretel is still the boss of them all, even though she doesn’t have the energy any more to hold them to task. They sit with her when she wants company and give her the room she needs when she wants to be left alone.

My old dog Charlie taught me something useful about caring for elderly animals. In his last year, walks weren’t really walks any more. We called them potters. Sometimes they were not even potters. but carries, with stops along the way so he could be placed on the ground and sniff something for as long as he wanted. I learned that I shouldn’t aim to keep giving care the way I used to but instead to find the version of care that fits the animal in front of me, as they are in that moment.

And that means listening and watching. The real work of caring for an elderly animal isn’t only the obvious things like soft beds, leg massages or hand-fed grapes. It’s the close attention. Watching what they tell you, every day, with their bodies and their behaviour. Gretel told me on the vet’s table that day. She tells me every morning, in the way she settles or perks up, the way she leans toward the sun. Every animal is doing this kind of communicating, all the time. They are owed someone who listens.

Today, at 8 years old, Gretel hopped on the soft grass. She has known sunshine and grapes, and a flock she presides over, and being preened by hands she trusts.

If you have an old animal in your life, tell me about them.

What are they asking of you these days?

Gretel in the blustery breeze today. Her feathers blown into a lion’s mane.

Thank you, as always, for reading and supporting the rescue.

Love Catherine x