They'll Be Fine: The Lie That Costs Roosters Their Lives

The story of Quinn, a dumped rooster who survived against the odds, and the thousands who don't.

Quinn in the bush

Cascade Falls in Macquarie Pass is the kind of place that makes you feel lucky to live in Australia. Dense rainforest, abundant birdlife, fresh water pools and waterfalls. People bring their swimsuits, their cameras and their children.

They also, it turns out, bring their roosters.

And leave them there.

A kind local vegan named David, who had been leaving feed for the roosters and keeping an eye on them, posted about them in a community Facebook group. He was asking for help and wrote that there were five roosters, living near the falls carpark. Though we would later learn there had been seven originally.

The comments that followed were well-meaning. And yet most arrived at the same destination: these roosters would be fine.

“Honestly I think letting them live this life is the most humane thing. They get along, they are a big group so good chance of fighting off predators. They are living a free life. And the biggest threat would be foxes, but they’re most active at night when the roosters would sleep in the trees. If they’re caught, then what? The reality is they’d be killed. They all look super happy and healthy.”

“These guys look like roosters - if they were adopted to a home with chooks they would begin to fight with each other. Roosters aren’t allowed to be kept in residential areas, so not many people can offer them a home. They look happy, healthy and like they have a good social group so for all the life options available for roosters I think they’re living one of the best (but I’m also sure they would welcome the odd food or water drop if you have the time or inclination, especially when it’s super hot). The fact that they’re in such good condition after last week’s heat wave gives me a lot of confidence they’ve got a good setup.”

I understand the logic. I even understand the kindness behind it. But it wasn’t long before, five of seven of those roosters were dead.

I want to talk about the thought pattern of “they’ll be fine.” Because it does real damage.

Domestic chickens are not wild animals. They were not born to fend for themselves in the bush. They have no flock structure to protect them, no experienced older bird to teach them where to shelter, no safe place to sleep. What they have is the instinct of an animal who knows something is very wrong, combined with a body that was not bred for wild living.

“They’ll be fine” is what people say when they want to feel better about something they cannot bring themselves to fix. It is a comfortable story that allows everyone to walk on by.

For a while, the roosters at Macquarie Pass did seem to be surviving. They had a natural water source. David left feed for them and kept a watchful eye. Visitors enjoyed seeing them, although some laughed as their children chased them. But Cascade Falls is a popular walking spot, and people let their dogs run near the carpark.

It was only a matter of time.

Three roosters were killed by dogs. One was hit on the road. One went missing. We found no bodies, only clumps of feathers.

Of the original seven, only two remained. Spencer, a Polish breed rooster whose feathers had grown so long over his eyes he could barely see. And Quinn.

Spencer in the bush

Isy, one of our NSW Hen Rescue directors, drove an hour and a half to try and rescue them both. She caught Spencer, who was slightly easier due to his limited vision, cornered gently against a puppy gate.

Quinn was another matter entirely. She was later joined by David and they worked into the night.

Quinn was fast. He knew every trail, every branch, every shadow in that bush. They found him up a tree at one point and he was gone again before they could get him. Eventually, exhausted and heartbroken, and after 7.5 hours of trying, they had to leave without him.

Spencer went to a home where he experienced his first love and care.

Soon after, I drove down from Northern NSW myself with a van full of puppy gates and netting, thinking we could build a large enough corral to catch him. It was an extremely hot day. The drive took 8.5 hours by the time I arrived I was feeling the effects of the heat. We tried for hours and hours to rescue Quinn, well into the night.

We lost track of him multiple times in the dense bush. We played chicken sounds through a phone speaker and Quinn, this small frightened rooster perked up his head. He was so desperate to hear another chicken. And then he realised it was a trick, and he was gone.

I drove back to Grafton feeling like I had failed him.

It was after that second failed attempt that people began to suggest, gently, that maybe we should just let Quinn live there. That maybe that was where he belonged.

I understood why they said it. I also knew it wasn’t true. He was a domestic rooster, alone in the bush, with no flock and no safety. He wasn’t thriving. He was barely surviving,

We were not going to give up on him.

Isy set up a roster of volunteers to visit Quinn regularly: Isy, David, and a local woman named Jess. They brought him food and they sat with him.

Nobody could get near him. After everything he had been through, including one particularly awful incident where a family turned up in the bush, smoking, shouting and chasing him saying they wanted him for breeding, Quinn had decided that humans were not to be trusted. And who could blame him?

But Isy and David kept going back.

Week after week, Isy would sit a little closer. She brought corn, grapes and berries along with chicken food. Slowly, slowly, over many weeks and months Quinn started to relax. Over time he gained confidence to sit a couple of metres away from her, which doesn’t sound like much, but was so much closer and more trusting than where they had started.

He still wouldn’t let her near enough to catch him.

So we came up with Plan B.

Fifi is a hen cared for by Charlize, another director of the hen rescue who runs our microsanctuary for higher needs animals. Fifi is, to put it plainly, a superstar. Confident, chatty, completely unbothered by car trips or new environments. She is exactly the kind of hen who could walk into any situation and take it in her stride.

Charlize met Isy at Cascade Falls with Fifi in tow. A week earlier, Isy had set up a pen in the area where Quinn had been spending his time, so he could get used to the structure without being frightened by it. Fifi was placed inside the pen.

Isy and Charlize stood back and waited.

It wasn’t long before Quinn heard Fifi. He came out of the bush. He walked into the pen. He started doing his little rooster dances for her, spinning and stepping, showing off.

Isy sent me a video immediately after closing the gate behind him.

‘Oh my god Catherine… we got him we got him. I’m so relieved,’ she said through tears.

Quinn safe in the carrier

I cannot fully explain the relief of hearing those words after so many months. I also cannot fully express what Isy’s dedication meant in making that moment possible. She drove that road more times than I can count. She sat in the bush alone for hours, quietly earning the trust of a rooster who had every reason never to trust a human again. She never once suggested we give up on him. I am so grateful for her.

And as if the universe wanted to make sure Quinn didn’t arrive alone, a few days before he was due to be driven to the hen haven, we received a message through a community Facebook group.

Two young hens had been abandoned when their owner moved house. Neighbours had spotted them perching on a wall, clearly bewildered and at risk of predator attack. Someone had taken them in temporarily, keeping them safe in a crate in their apartment.

Their names are Minnie and Alice.

They travelled up to the Hen Haven with Quinn. And when they were placed in the same enclosure, something shifted in him that was wonderful to watch. He stood taller. He looked so proud. He did not rush at them or chase them. He showed them the food. He danced for them gently. He talked to them. He crowed and crowed. He was safe, and he seemed to know it.

Quinn proudly strutting in his new forever home - The Hen Haven

He still perches at night on the highest perch in the enclosure, the one that’s actually meant for the pigeons. That instinct is still in him. But he is happy. He is safe. And he is so gentle with his girls.

Quinn’s story is not unusual, except in its relatively happy ending.

We receive emails about dumped roosters every single day. In a recent week, we rescued seven roosters in our local area alone. We are beyond capacity. We have roosters sleeping in the house. We are building new enclosures we don’t have the money for. Every other sanctuary we know is in the same position.

And when we try to do something about the locations where roosters are being dumped repeatedly, including Cascade Falls, we run into a wall.

We have asked for signage at dumping hotspots. Just simple signs stating:

Dumping animals is illegal, this area is monitored and offenders will be prosecuted.

We offered to obtain and manage the signs ourselves if the relevant authorities would simply agree not to remove them.

We have contacted councils, the RSPCA, National Parks, and Transport for NSW. What follows is always some version of the same conversation: the RSPCA says go to the council, the council says that is not their responsibility, and to go to the RSPCA. National Parks has not responded to Isy at all, and it has now been two weeks. We have been ignored, referred on, and stonewalled at every turn.

I find this both completely predictable and incredibly sad every single time. Because what it tells me is that all organisations we might reasonably look to for help have decided, collectively and without much fuss, that roosters simply are not worth the effort. And that attitude does not exist in isolation.

Chickens are the most numerous farmed land animal on the planet and among the least protected. The rooster dumping crisis is not an accident. It flows directly from the backyard hen industry, from hatching projects at schools, from a culture that sees roosters as a problem to be disposed of rather than a living creature with a heartbeat and a personality and, as it turns out, a very lovely little dance.

Isy made a video about Quinn’s rescue that you can watch on YouTube. It shows the whole journey, from the first rescue attempt, to Fifi working her magic, to Quinn arriving safely at the hen haven. I would love for you to watch it, and if it moves you, to share it. The more people understand what actually happens to dumped roosters, the harder it becomes to believe they’ll be fine.

This morning Quinn was outside in the sunshine with Minnie and Alice. He was doing his little dances for them, calling them over to anything he found worth eating, keeping a watchful eye. When I look at him now I still think about how small he must have felt out there in that bush, night after night, alone.

None of this needed to happen. The people who bred these birds and discarded them like rubbish made that choice. And the councils, organisations and authorities who continue to pass the buck rather than take responsibility are making a choice too.

Quinn was one of the lucky ones. Most roosters who are dumped will never have a David who notices them, an Isy who keeps coming back, or a Fifi to coax them to safety. They will die alone in the bush, or on a road, or in the jaws of a predator. Nobody will ever know their personality, their quirks, the way they dance or the sound of their voice.

Nobody will ever know them at all.

Love Catherine x

https://henrescue.org