College Township to 10-year-old: Give up your pet chickens, or face steep fines
Maeve Elliott, 10, doesn’t understand why College Township is trying to take her “family” away.
The bouncing fifth-grader, a walking encyclopedia of animal trivia, has nurtured her four baby chicks into full-fledged chickens during the pandemic, an exercise that’s given her an outlet when she feels any tears coming. But, despite the approval of at least one council member and a supporting note from her pediatrician, she might soon be forced to give up her pet chickens — something she’s pestered her parents about for the last three years.
She doesn’t exactly understand the reason. Then again, her parents really don’t either. Or their friends. Many around the neighborhood also don’t understand why College Township is so adamant about taking Maeve’s pets away — from the township hiring a substitute attorney to refusing to answer questions outside of formal open-records requests to threatening a $500 per day fine.
“I’m sad and lonely because right now, in quarantine, I can’t see my friends,” Maeve said, before pointing to her chickens. “And they’re basically my best friends right now. ... They’re family — and you don’t get rid of family.”
At issue is an old zoning ordinance that doesn’t allow properties under 10 acres to farm. In that “farm use” ordinance, a rule remains on the books that forbids “the raising and keeping of livestock and poultry.” Maeve’s parents contend they’re not farming; College Township’s zoning enforcement officer says it doesn’t matter. The rule still says no chickens.
“College Township feels it is important to enforce all ordinance (sic) we have enacted,” township staff said in a written statement Tuesday that involved four employees and one attorney.
If Maeve doesn’t surrender her pet chickens by June 30, the fines will start — and will add up to $15,000 after just the first month. The Elliotts can appeal for a $600 fee, but many of the supporting documents they need are being held in limbo by the township.
Because the township declined to answer all questions over phone or email, the Elliotts had to resort to filing 17 open-records requests — and the township requested 30-day extensions, meaning it doesn’t have to respond until after the fines start piling up.
“It just seems surreal that we’re even here at this point,” said Maeve’s mother, Jackie, who helped start a Facebook group in support of her daughter.
How it all started
Maeve beamed behind her rainbow-colored mask on a recent overcast afternoon, telling anyone who would listen that she’s wanted pet chickens ever since she was “really little.”
In February 2018, she even sent a drawing and handwritten letter to College Township about wanting pet chickens. Touched by the note, councilwoman Carla Stilson invited the family over for a tour of the township building and, according to the Elliotts, encouraged the family to move ahead with the pets.
Stilson did not return a message from the Centre Daily Times seeking comment.
Still, Maeve would always breathlessly return from her friend’s home in Julian, chatting about their pet chickens. So, when the pandemic hit in March and the Elliotts realized this wasn’t a temporary “chicken phase,” they decided to finally give in.
Maeve couldn’t stop smiling. Three months later, and she still can’t.
“I was very lonely without them,” she said. “And then I got them, and I felt much better. I felt like I had something to wake up in the morning to see.”
Sometimes, she’ll grab a book and read to the chickens. Sometimes, she’ll hug them like small dogs and smile and, sometimes, she’ll sneak them inside to show her friends online. She’ll happily buzz from one chicken topic to the next: Did you know chickens are related to the Tyrannosaurus Rex? ... This chicken, named Purple, is the leader and bosses her friends around. ... Sometimes they’ll peck at freckles, but it just feels like a small pinch.
Her older brother, 12 years old, will often just sit inside and complain of phantom aches and pains when his parents urge him to venture outside. They fear he’s depressed as a direct result of the pandemic and, in him, they see what fate might await their daughter if she’s forced to give up her pets. She cried again Tuesday wondering what might happen to Purple, El, Waffles and Banana.
“The chickens have been the one bright spot in her day,” her father, Nathan, said. “They keep her going and keep her engaged. She feels like she’s useful to them, you know? Without them, there would have been a lot more crying. A lot more. I guarantee it.”
The trouble all started May 15, the date of Maeve’s 10th birthday. Zoning enforcement officer Mark Gabrovsek spotted Jackie outside and informed her and Nathan there was a complaint — one the family has still not seen and had to file an open-records request for — and Gabrovsek told them they’d have to get rid of the chickens.
While Gabrovsek was there on Oak Ridge Avenue, the end of a no-outlet road, he also noticed the Elliotts’ fenced-in garden was located too close to the street. That, he told them, was also a violation — and the township would fine them $500 for every day after June 30 it went unfixed, too.
Wait ... but pet alligators are OK?
Maeve’s case isn’t all that unusual.
Similar cases are popping up around the state and the country, as raising chickens as pets becomes more commonplace. According to data gleaned from both the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the American Pet Producers Association, ownership of pet chickens has risen — conservatively — by more than 800% over the last decade.
The APPA even estimates that 12% of U.S. households with young children now have chickens.
It’s a trend that both the Los Angeles Times and USA Today have documented. Actress Jennifer Garner posts photos of her posing with her pet chickens, and Guardians of the Galaxy star Chris Pratt also boasts his own coop. Businesses have sprung up that specialize in chicken clothing, Williams & Sonoma has designed several coops that run into the thousands, and pet chickens even have their own dedicated magazine titled, “Backyard Poultry.”
Twenty years ago, few predicted this growing trend. And as a result, zoning and municipal law attorney David Toal said, many local ordinances don’t address pet chickens, so municipal language often isn’t clear.
Toal should know. He helped a Fayette County man keep his 18 pet chickens two months ago in a commonwealth court decision. (In that case, the ordinance forbid “agricultural animals,” and Toal argued the animals were pets, not agricultural.)
Normally, Toal said, there’s an intent behind the law, and regulating is preferred over banning. Roosters might specifically be banned by a township because they’re noisy. Snakes might be overall allowed, but venomous snakes might be forbidden because they’re dangerous. But chickens as a whole?
“There’s no case on point where there’s a complete ban of chickens,” Toal said, explaining a township’s ban on chickens could potentially be argued as unlawful.
Technically, Maeve would appear to be legally in the clear if she had instead adopted four pet alligators in place of her pet chickens. A cursory search through College Township’s ordinances yielded no related ordinance outlawing alligators — Pennsylvania is one of the few remaining states to allow them — and the township declined to confirm or deny the Centre Daily Times’ assertion, by not returning a related email Tuesday and a phone message Wednesday.
Maeve is not interested in pet alligators.
What comes next?
Maeve’s parents aren’t sure what to do.
They hope common sense prevails in the end. They hope the township drops the case. They hope their daughter can still embrace her pets, letting them scamper in the fenced-in garden or relax in their coop outside during the day. But with each passing day, that hope is replaced with panic.
The family already visited this month’s council meeting, and 12 people spoke in support of pet chickens with none publicly opposed. But the council said it cannot override the zoning officer’s decision.
The Elliotts feel as if that officer has given them an impossible choice — their daughter’s happiness or their financial security. Yes, the Elliotts could still choose to appeal. But Toal acknowledged most cases are affirmed by zoning boards; he only won his court case in April after Fayette County’s zoning board upheld its initial ruling. And attorneys and appeals are expensive, as are $500-per-day fines.
Even if the Elliotts might win in the end, what’s the cost? But, if they don’t fight and lose the chickens, what happens to the bright-eyed girl whose parents swear she might be a vet one day?
“As a child advocate, I think the township should reconsider removal of chickens from the Elliott household,” Dr. David Coggins, Maeve’s pediatrician, wrote in a letter to the township. “They are currently a source of routine, responsibility, emotional support and focus that is consistent for Maeve as the world around her is changing.”
College Township’s solicitor recused himself since he’s had property dealings with the Elliotts in the past. So the township is currently paying a substitute attorney for counsel on this case. The township declined to respond to the CDT when asked how much he’s cost the community so far.
For her part, Maeve just wants to keep her chickens close.
“They definitely help when you’re sad,” she said. “A lot of things don’t make you laugh when you’re sad but, with them, you just smile.”
One of the pet chickens then gave a slight cluck, which sent Maeve giggling. “And they make me laugh,” she said.
The Elliotts only hope they still hear that laughter after June 30.
This story was originally published June 24, 2020 at 3:28 PM.
