I'm in the middle of Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. Years ago I read Everything is Illuminated and was impressed by Foer's substantial writing talent – and his latest book doesn't disappoint.
One of my favorite passages from the book is a little thought experiment about battery cages (those cages where hens are confined for their entire lives - about 98% of eggs sold in Canada come from hens confined in batter cages).
Step your mind into a crowded elevator, an elevator so crowded you cannot turn around without bumping into (and aggravating) your neighbor. The elevator is so crowded you are often held aloft. This is a kind of blessing, as the slanted floor is made of wire, which cuts into your feet.
After some time, those in the elevator will lose their ability to work in the interest of the group. Some will become violent; others will go mad. A few, deprived of food and hope, will become cannibalistic.
There is no respite, no relief. No elevator repairman is coming. The doors will open once, at the end of your life, for your journey to the only place worse (see: PROCESSING).
I've never read a better description of what a battery cage would be like for me to be in. Foer writes that "the typical cage for egg-laying hens allows each sixty-seven square inches of floor space – somewhere between the size of this page and a sheet of printer paper."
Are cheap eggs worth subjecting chickens to cruelty like this?
