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The Age of the Chicken: A Legacy Written in Bones

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Image: weanimals.org

In a distant future—long after our civilization has faded—scientists might sift through layers of Earth and make a startling discovery: trillions upon trillions of chicken bones, fossilized in landfills, their altered shapes and unnatural densities forever etched into the planet’s geological record. These bones—remnants of the chickens bred, used, and discarded by the egg and meat industries—will tell a story of human dominance, consumption, and neglect.

Some scholars have already named this era the “Poultryocene” or “Gallocene”—the “Age of the Chicken”. Not because chickens have thrived, but because they’ve been bred in such astronomical numbers that they have literally reshaped Earth’s biosphere. At any given moment, there are over 23 billion chickens on Earth, far surpassing the population of any other land animal.

A Bird We Barely Know

Ironically, while we live in an apparent “Age of the Chicken,” most of us rarely see living chickens at all. In supermarkets, we find sanitized packages of wings and drumsticks. On egg cartons, we see idyllic illustrations of hens roaming free. The reality is drastically different: in the meat industry, chickens have been bred to grow so fast they suffer crippling health problems, and in the egg industry, hens are pushed to ovulate incessantly at great detriment to their health. 

Modern “broiler chickens” are engineered to grow three times faster and pack on five times the biomass compared to chickens of the early 20th century. This extreme breeding is all about profit: more white breast meat in less time. Typically, these birds are slaughtered at just five to seven weeks old, whereas a wild fowl might live up to eleven years. Because their hearts and lungs can’t keep pace with such explosive growth, many chickens experience heart failure, respiratory issues, and severe leg pain if allowed to live beyond the typical slaughter age. Even in sanctuaries that rescue them, so-called “broilers” often struggle with chronic health issues and rarely reach old age.

Meanwhile, “layer chickens” have been bred to lay about 500 eggs a year, dwarfing the mere 10 to 15 that their wild ancestors once laid—only in spring. Each ovulation can be fraught with pain or life-threatening complications. Conditions like egg yolk peritonitis (when egg material leaks into the body cavity), cloacal prolapse, and ovarian cancers are tragically common. What nature intended as a cyclical, occasional process has become a daily production line, inevitably ending in chronic pain or premature death.

Fossilized Footprints of Suffering

Limb bones (femur, tibiotarsus, tarsometatarsus) of a modern broiler and a red jungle fowl are shown in proportionate size to each other for comparison. Scale bar 20 mm.
Source: “The broiler chicken as a signal of a human reconfigured biosphere”.

All these trillions of chickens—confined, bred to extremes, and slaughtered—will leave their mark on Earth’s geological record. Their bones, piled in landfills, will serve as a stark signal that something colossal and troubling took place. Future scientists could easily identify a massive surge in chicken fossils dating from the mid-20th century onward, silent witnesses to industrial-scale breeding and hidden cruelty. Unlike dinosaur remains—whose disappearance marked natural catastrophes—these modern chicken fossils would reveal a disaster of our own making: one born of human exploitation. Their bones would testify to how we altered their DNA, cramped them into factory farms, and discarded them in unfathomable numbers.

Despite the overwhelming presence of chickens in our food system, few consider them beyond their role as commodities. We call this the “Age of the Chicken” not because we honor or celebrate these birds, but because in death they overwhelm our culture—stripped, sliced, and served before we ever truly acknowledge their lives.

Chickens are remarkable creatures, however, —curious, intelligent, and socially complex. They forge deep connections, navigate intricate social hierarchies, and revel in pleasures like dust bathing and nesting. They recognize one another’s faces, communicate with genuine empathy, and are devoted mothers who bond with their chicks both before and after hatching. Yet in the industrial egg and meat sectors, these natural behaviors are systematically suppressed. Confined to overcrowded sheds, denied meaningful interactions, and forced into unnatural breeding and egg-laying cycles, chickens are reduced to mere cogs in the relentless machinery of food production. The industry strips them of their inherent dignity, turning vibrant, sentient beings into products with a singular purpose—profit.

If we genuinely live in the “Age of the Chicken,” then we owe it to these creatures to see them as more than commodities. Their lives are defined by intelligence, empathy, and social bonds—not merely by fast-growing muscles or high egg yields. Every purchase of chicken or eggs fuels an industry that prizes volume and profit at the expense of animal well-being.

Choosing Compassion

Every choice we make has consequences. One of the simplest yet most impactful ways to change the fate of chickens is to stop consuming them. This so-called “Poultryocene” doesn’t have to be a story of suffering; it can be a turning point, if we decide to honor life rather than exploit it.

Please leave eggs off your plate.

By choosing compassion, we can rewrite the legacy that future geologists—and future generations—will unearth in Earth’s layers. Let’s make sure that when they find these bones, they also find evidence of a turning tide toward empathy and respect.

Sources & Further Reading

Article Sources:

Further Reading:

This post was informed by the valuable input of Chloë Taylor, whose academic expertise and research played a key role in shaping the article.

Juliane Priesemeister