Traveling to Beat of a Different Drumstick

I consider myself an animal lover. Not in the same way as people who join organizations (or donate to them), but in the way of one who thinks our furry and feathered friends are cute little rascals and shouldn’t be picked on.

Translation: I don’t give the animal-rights issue much thought.

I don’t say that with any particular relish; it’s just not on my radar screen.

So what comes flying across the desk just a few days before Thanksgiving but an e-mail decrying the killing (they call it the “slaughter”) of turkeys.

Talk about taking all the fun out of Thanksgiving dinner.

It opens with this enticing line: “This year for holiday dinners, more than 40 million turkeys will have their beaks and claws cut off without anesthesia.”

I know what some of you are saying: “Well, who wants to eat a turkey with its beak and claws attached?”

I don’t think that’s their point.

The e-mail listed references, including United Poultry Concerns Inc. in Virginia. I tried to reach Karen Davis, its founder and chief advocate, but she had left an answering machine message that said she was out of town for several days.

That leaves the e-mail, which purports to capture Davis’ thoughts on the subject. And they reflect, I fear, why so many ordinary Americans can’t relate to the more fervent elements of the animal-rights movement, even those of us who may feel some guilt about it.

The group’s Web site says it is “dedicated to the compassionate and respectful treatment of domestic fowl.”

Davis, described in the e-mail as among the nation’s leading chicken-rights advocates, likens henhouses to concentration camps, “with the chicken farmer cast in the role of the ruthless Nazi commandant.”

Not the Best Approach

In the e-mail Davis equates the chicken catchers with the Gestapo, “in the sense that they are coming into a place of tranquillity [the henhouse] often during the night. It would be the same as if somebody came into your house, or my house and suddenly grabbed us by our heels, took us out of our beds, hung us upside-down and just tossed us in a crate.”

I don’t know if there’s a better way to improve the lot of chickens and turkeys, but comparing their captors to Gestapo agents probably isn’t going to get the job done.

Animal-rights activists have become popular spoofing targets, largely because they often come across as their own worst enemy.

After all these years, I still don’t know if they’re the most enlightened people on the planet or just wired a lot differently than the rest of us.

Either way, the objective of any organization ought to be to win followers, not turn them off by the millions.

At best, activists can hope to get an audience. At worst, they’re ignored as extremists.

That’s my opinion, but not that of Veda Stram, an official with the Orange County People for Animals group. Stram, who lives in Huntington Beach, says animal-rights advocates are making inroads.

“It’s shifting,” she says of the vast chasm I suggest exists between animal-rights groups and the rest of us.

The group’s guiding principle, she says, is that “Every being has the right to live without exploitation. We really do mean every being. Where we’re focusing our attention is on animals; it also includes humans. One of the problems people have is separating the environmental movement from the animal rights movement from the civil rights movement.”

As for turkeys, Stram echoes the laments. “The irony of it is that it’s a time of thanksgiving, of family, of generosity and kindness and all that. The only decent thing that happens to those animals is that they die. For someone who cares about life and thinks life is amazing, that’s pretty sad. And we live with that every minute.”

Maybe in some future generation, human beings will stop killing turkeys and chickens for food. If I was handling their public relations, however, I’d limit my pitch for now to more humane ways of killing them.

Trust me, equating humans with turkeys is the slow road to winning converts.

Especially at Thanksgiving.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com.