Of Necessity

Twenty cute chicks in our bathtub became nineteen roving pullets, who, once the frost had culled much of their vegetation and bug snacks, became nineteen greedy birds. Added to our other ten birds, they ate way too much grain for our pocketbook.



So, we done killed ten of them.

Thank the Lord for kind and knowledgeable neighbor-friends, whose experience in butchering chickens was a boon. Titi, Temen, and Rundy cheerfully agreed to show us how to kill and gut chickens, even though they had nothing to gain from it but some bowls of crunchy stew (still so sorry!). And I didn't actually kill chickens; I merely held them in their postmortem thrashings after John chopped off their heads. (Boy, I'm glad to be married. Imagine having to do both!)

We would have had to manage without tutoring if there were no other choice, but it's much more pleasant to be taught something new by patient and experienced people. Plus, they brought their plucker along! Yeehaw! What a party!



I was occupied with pulling out guts and getting splattered with blood, so I didn't document the morning with more than a handful of pictures.

I had promised the girls, most especially Annika, who was upstairs weeping, that I would take pictures of Sumac Gold II, Sumac Silver, and Silky, the rooster triumvirate.

I held Sumac Silver (or Gold II).




Rundy held Sumac Gold II (or Silver).




And Temen held Silky, who was captured only after a thrilling chase. Admirable bird.





John's makeshift hanging post worked like a charm.



I stood lazily by while "the help" handled scalding water.



Here's our elaborate butcher's shop.



It just makes your mouth water, doesn't it?