November 13, 2008
Shield your eyes, young ones.
That’s for you, Harrison.
The answers to Monday’s Survival Challenge are immediately below this post.
Today, class, we will be discussing what happens when a small farm finds themselves with 13 roosters and 8 ladies.
She calls her daughter’s physical therapist and asks her to come teach a lesson on Chicken Demise, that’s what she does. And then she emails her friend Lauren who is visiting for the weekend and asks her if she minds being a part of the action instead of going out for hot cocoa somewhere.
Lauren, God bless you, you are truly and honestly the only friend I could have ev-ah called and said, “Um, looks like the chicken thing is happening on Sunday. Care much?” Lauren is an old friend from my teaching days in California. She now resides in Raleigh and makes the world a better place. I mean that with all my heart. All photos are courtesy of her as I was, ahem, knee deep.
I had called every local butcher I could find, but there are some pretty strict rules (be Ye thankful) when it comes to poultry and beef. No mixing. Not a single person/business in the area could help a silly girl with a very small flock to cull. Somebody teach me! I’m willing and able to learn! But no. Where’s an old Polish Gramma when you need one? I was left with too many boys, cold weather rapidly approaching, and lady birds getting attacked daily by some overly-aggressive red hats. Plus, two of the boys had decided humans were fair game near the end… and I’m just not down with that. I could have left them out overnight and let the coyotes have at’em, but that’s just plain wasteful. So, I called Amy. And Amy said, “Sure.” And, it’s just that easy, Folks. Country folks help country folks.
Amy arrived at 1pm that Sunday and proceeded to give us all a lesson we will never forget. We were finished by 4pm. It wasn’t near as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it was awesome. I don’t plan to do it yearly, but I can honestly say I could do it again if I had to. I have bridged the gap between old world and new. I know how to butcher a chicken.
Twelve roosters met their match that afternoon and are now ready to feed us (and you) in the coming months. Happy, free-range, organic, huge chickens. They weren’t raised as meat chickens, so they’re a bit leaner and older than what you’d find in the store… but they’re huge. If you’re interested, lemme know. The eight ladies and one rooster remaining are so incredibly happy now that all the other punks are gone. Every day they run up to me and thank me for the peace they now enjoy. My pleasure, I say. My pleasure.
Many many thanks to Amy for giving her time and patience to teach us wacky kids. Thank you to Amy’s son who did the only part I would have no part in: the chopping. Thank you to Lauren for being fantastic. Thank you to the Man Above, for an honest-to-goodness love of this simple life. We are so very blessed.
A complete set of photos can be found here. Becky, you should not look at these photos… though they really aren’t bad. I promise.
We need not discuss this anymore.
Unless you want to.
Then we can discuss it all you want.
But, not here.
Because I love Becky.