Received anonymously:
14th October, somewhere cold and Northern. (UK?)
Our night was quickly off to a great start when one of our cars showed up a whopping 45 minutes late due to some questionable navigation. After some hurried hellos we set off across multiple soggy fields towards our target, carrying a crate each. The dark outline of multiple sheds shortly came into view and a cursory look through our thermal imaging device told us the coast was clear.
With one person on watch, we climbed into our chosen shed. The first thing that always hits you is the smell of ammonia, filling your nostrils and lungs. We began picking up hens, one-by-one, and placing them into the crates. The girls were nervous and bunched together in the corners ready to be scooped up, but most went into the crates easily enough. One or two more boisterous ladies struggled and expressed contempt at being helped to freedom, but we powered on.
After a few minutes, the crates were full and we were ready to go. Reunited with our look-out we began the arduous journey with full crates back across multiple fields. This took a lot of strength, energy, multiple stops, and a little swearing, but we eventually loaded the lucky ladies up into our vehicle and delivered them safely to their new home. We went in hoping to rescue 20 hens, and we were ecstatic to surpass our target. Ironically, the scale of industrial farming means the farmer probably won’t even notice their absence. So much for treating them like ‘family’.
Actively rescuing animals from the institutions that harm them is the purest form of nonviolent direct action; bypassing the powers-that-be to create the future we need now. Tomorrow, these hens will be waking up tasting freedom – not ammonia – for possibly the first time in their lives. And that is a sweet thought.
Stay safe out there x