She Took Chickens Facing Death in a Factory Farm. Did It Constitute a Rescue or a Crime?
On a Monday afternoon in September's final days, the University of California, Berkeley attendee emerged from a courtroom in Santa Rosa, California. Flanked by her legal team, she walked quickly through the courthouse corridors, beyond dozens of jury candidates.
Attached to her black blazer was a small metallic bird, shining on her collar.
These were the concluding moments of picking jurors for the case against Rosenberg. She was facing two lesser charges for unauthorized entry and one count of vehicle interference, as well as one count of felony conspiracy. If convicted on all charges, she could face up to four and a half years in jail.
It’s not a whodunit … The focus is on the reason.
The facts at the center of the legal matter were agreed upon. In the early hours on a June night in 2023, Rosenberg and several other members of the group Direct Action Everywhere drove to Petaluma Poultry, a processing center about a short drive north of the Bay Area. Posing as employees, they found a transport truck filled with thousands of live chickens packed into crates. They removed four chickens, secured them in pails and drove away.
These details were agreed because Rosenberg and her fellow activists had later published video footage of their actions. “It’s not a whodunit,” her attorney, Carraway, often states. “The reason is key.”
Following their exit, the activists examined the chickens – which they called Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea - carefully. She stated they were soiled with excrement and suffering from wounds and abrasions.
Her attorney clarified in court that Zoe's purpose was not to steal but to provide assistance. The panel would be tasked with deciding, in effect, where empathy ends before it crosses into criminality.
Raised by a vet, Zoe was raised on 16 hectares in the county area, California, surrounded by various pets and farm animals.
When she was nine, the household acquired poultry at home. She remembers clearly their monikers readily: the seven chickens. Until then, Rosenberg had shared the widespread belief that chickens were not too bright, but getting to know them altered her perspective. “I discovered they have distinct characters and that they are intelligent and inquisitive, and that their lives are really, really valuable.”
A couple of years after, Rosenberg watched an digital recording of rescuers infiltrating a big egg farm in Australia and taking birds. She had never before seen inside a industrial agriculture facility, and she was appalled at the situation: thousands upon thousands of hens confined in enclosures. This also introduced her to the concept of “open rescue”, the term activists use to detail missions in which they access commercial farms or scientific centers and take creatures in need. They make no secret of their work, often posting footage of what they do.
Once she saw it, Rosenberg immediately knew that was something she wanted to do, and she reached out to the head of the group behind it. (“They didn't know my age,” Zoe remembered.) Subsequently, in that year, she established the local branch of the organization, a then new animal rights organization.
Throughout time, animal rights groups have become known for using confrontational tactics – such as efforts from the group comparing meat consumption to the Holocaust or stunts that involve splattering fur with fake blood. The logic is simple: it takes shock to awaken public awareness about animal suffering. Yet, it can lead to rejection: driving individuals away. In cultures centered on animal products, people often perceive these demonstrations as a direct criticism – and experience condemnation, not conversion.
The group continues this approach; they have staged protests near a meat market in Berkeley and disrupted a Friday dinner at the popular eatery Chez Panisse.
Yet, their defining operation has been “open rescues”. From the activists’ perspective, an advantage of this approach is that it goes beyond raising awareness to an injustice – it seeks, to some extent, to address it. It also targets the agricultural sector rather than blaming everyday people, and offers a glimpse into the secret realm of animal agriculture.
“The trials we face are a method to present the issue to a randomly selected jury of our fellow citizens, and to others through the media,” said the communications lead, an activist. “Should it be illegal, or is it justified, to rescue an animal that is suffering in a commercial operation?”
Already, the group points out, there are statutes allowing intervention in CA and numerous states offering immunity if they forcibly enter a motor vehicle to remove an endangered animal. They contend that the identical logic should cover every being in suffering.
Over the past decade, as stated by the representative, activists have participated in about 60 such operations. In recent times, rescuers have removed two piglets from a Utah factory farm; several hens from a transport vehicle near a processing plant in the county; and three dogs from a breeding and research facility in the state. Once the creatures are taken, the activists provide them with veterinary care and relocate them to safe environments.
Mike Weber runs the agricultural business with his relative in Petaluma. The farm has been in his family for many decades, he told me. The farm focuses on poultry with just under 1 million chickens, housed in about two dozen buildings. The operation, which is powered by more than 2,500 solar panels, also recycles droppings for soil.
In May 2018, DxE activists staged a large-scale operation on his farm. Numerous protesters showed up to protest. Some of them invaded the farm and {broke into a chicken house|accessed a poultry building|entered a coop
