We got this call about a week ago from this woman who wanted to adopt a rooster. Shocking, since NO ONE wants roosters. She wanted to come right out and get him — she has 18 hens and no rooster, she told me — but I told her we need to bring him to her instead so we could check out the place, and we made a plan to bring him out later in the week.
Of course we had the whole conversation about how she couldn’t ever kill him, which she swore she never would. We also talked about how this guy was the last remaining cock fighter to still be caged much of the time because he still hasn’t learned not to fight, and how great his life would be now that he could have his own world with only hens and no one else to hurt him. Oh, she agreed, that would be lovely.
All week we told him how great it would be, he would never be in a cage again.
On Saturday, we put him in a crate and got out there (driving for about 30 minutes on dirt roads through a gorgeous in the middle of nowhere area) and see this beautiful spread with hens walking all over the place, totally free. We think yay, this is perfect, and we walk to the door and a woman came out with a look on her face. So, I said, are we too early? And she said no, hold on, just let me get a sweater. But then she doesn’t move, and gets yet another look on her face and I know right then. It was that very particular compassionate look, the one that people seem to think makes everything all right (which of course it does in her world) and says, oh, I’m so sorry, I tried to call you this morning but I had the wrong number (unlike the other two times she called the right number when she wanted a rooster). The bottom line? Someone else “gave her” a rooster.
She swept in to hug me and all I could do was put out my arms and say no, but there she was STILL HUGGING ME while I was PUSHING HER AWAY. She moved in on Aram but his look must have scared her more than mine so she backed off.
Neither of us could say anything, literally, we were so angry and upset — she was blathering on about how sorry she was to take our time (like that was the issue) and even went so far as to offer us a cup of coffee, like we’d ever consider sitting down with her. I was finally able to say no — it was the only word I could get out of my mouth — and we both turned and walked away. It was that or scream and wail like a crazy person.
We picked up the poor guy (we had set him down in his crate so he could see some of the hens walking around) and left. He’s back in a cage much of the day and we are back to rehabbing him as we were before. At least it’s spring and he will be fine, especially once we have some more hens, but of course that’s not the point. It’s never the point. They don’t care. I’m sure this new rooster goes very well with her landscaping and they are all the same to her anyway, and I’m also sure that within a couple of hours her miniscule guilt turned to anger and disgust at the rude horrible animal people.
Whenever people wonder why oh why animal rights people feel the way we do, I wonder why oh why they wonder this.