I see.
This just goes to show how smart chickens are, Terry said -- socially, they are similar to people. Point taken.
Terry noted that one hen named Sara Jean refuses to lay her eggs anywhere but inside cars, under the accelerator pedal. This has created certain unpleasant surprises. Eccentric personality quirks like this, Terry explained earnestly, are further evidence of how smart chickens are.
Frankly, this lobbying effort wasn't going all that well, when Terry escorted me to a chicken barn. She was explaining how hard it is to come up with names for so many animals -- she and her husband actually visit cemeteries for ideas. It's particularly challenging when a whole bunch of animals arrive at one time, such as the dozen roosters just rescued from Katrina. Louisiana permits cock fighting, which is what these were probably raised for. Terry pointed to a feisty little red one, strutting and preening and puffing his chest. A bantamweight, as it were.
"That's little Gene Weingarten," she said.
It was at that moment that I began to realize how wrong I was, how unfair I had been and yadda yadda yadda. You just have to look at this majestic fellow's eyes to respect the species for its raw intellect -- quite possibly equal to a dog's.
As I left Poplar Spring, which operates entirely on donations from the public, it occurred to me that, speaking of comparative smarts, Terry had me beat by a country mile.
Gene Weingarten's e-mail address is weingarten@washpost.com.
Chat with him online Tuesdays at noon at www.washingtonpost.com.
Visit the chickens at www.animalsanctuary.org.
