Chickens are not my favorite animal. Of all God’s creatures, I like only snakes and spiders less.
This did not stop me from being intrigued by an article I read in the Globe and Mail recently. It seems that, with the possibility of a grain shortage next century, poultry is being touted as a solution to world hunger and rural poverty.
According to the report, thousands of scientists, government planners, breeders and farmers met recently in New Delhi for a poultry congress and exhibition, and gave high marks to chicken, as well as ducks, geese and eggs, as something even the very poor can afford.
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Poultry apparently need little in the way of land, labor or money and are ideal for small-scale farmers.
They are seen as a way to help communities in Africa, for instance, reduce the need for slash-and-burn agriculture.
Ducks have the added benefits of being weeders of ponds and controllers of insects, while geese are already used to clear grass and weeds in coffee, pineapple and banana plantations. Much of the developing world is undergoing a poultry revolution, according to the article I read:
- Since 1968, India’s egg production has increased five times while its chicken population has more than doubled.
- China’s 1994 egg production doubled that of 1985.
- In South Africa, 4,000 families belong to a program to develop an egg industry.
- In Bangladesh, landless laborers can earn about $300 per year, equivalent to the per capita national income, by raising chickens at home.
One wonders whether things will come full circle here.
At one time, every farm had its flock of chickens, something that is not the case today. This suits me just fine.
I have childhood memories of visiting a neighbor who kept a small flock of chickens in a shed in the back yard.
One day I was dispatched with the neighbor’s son and a bucket to collect eggs. The hens pecked at my hands, which in hindsight I really don’t blame them for.
I’d have pecked, too, had someone been taking my offspring, or facsimile thereof.
However, I found the whole experience so distasteful I declared upon moving to the farm that when a live chicken comes on the place, I go.
It would be awful to have to eat my words!
