I’ve learned at least two things about chickens since they took up residence in our yard back in April 2012. They’re smarter than people usually give them credit for, but they sometimes do a pretty good job of hiding their intelligence.
No doubt about it, chickens have a lot going on in their little noggins. Our hens are very social creatures. They constantly talk to one another (and to us), using a wide range of vocalizations. They know with great precision when it’s snack time, and how to stage end runs to gain better access to treats. They are curious about the world around them, enjoy being near people, and become visibly upset when separated from one another. They have the good sense to stay out of the rain, and they avoid walking in the snow whenever possible.
It’s claimed that chickens recognize people, and can differentiate among human faces. I don’t doubt it.
“Leading animal behavior scientists from around the globe know that chickens are inquisitive and interesting animals whose cognitive abilities are in some cases more advanced than those of cats, dogs, and even some primates,” according to People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. “Chickens comprehend cause-and-effect relationships and understand that objects still exist even after they are hidden from view. In this respect, they are more cognitively advanced than small human children.”
As Christine Nicol of the Division of Animal Health and Husbandry at the University of Bristol in Great Britain put it last year, studies of chickens over the last two decades have revealed their “finely-honed sensory capacities, their ability to think, draw inferences, apply logic and plan ahead.”
So how to explain the following?
On a warm and sunny day recently, all three of our hens remained holed up in the coop for most of the day, only coming out into the pen to eat. But the following day, which was cold, raw and wet, they hung out in the pen for hours on end, despite a near-constant drizzle. Granted, the pen was covered by a tarp most of that time, but the coop would have been much cozier.
And then there’s this. At dawn on Dec. 8, it was seven degrees outside here in Augusta, Maine. After the hens had their breakfast in the pen, Nellie and Hope, our Rhode Island Reds, simply stood around, motionless, instead of retreating into the coop. As for Snow, our all-white Plymouth Rock, she decided to sit down on the frozen ground, where she remained for more than five minutes. (From a distance, Snow looked like a mound of, well, snow.) At first, I thought she was sick, but no. For whatever reason, that’s just where she wanted to be.
As I tried to sort out why supposedly intelligent creatures engage in such antics, it occurred to me that maybe chickens aren’t as smart as their keepers assume. Then a more likely explanation came to mind.
We've all seen teenagers outside in the winter months wearing nothing more than a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Or sandals! So even intelligent life forms do stupid stuff. At least my hens wear down coats when they venture out at this time of year.
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