Not Again! Farm

Ok, I admit it. I finally screwed up my courage and killed one of my roosters. I am having very mixed emotions about it. Ned, who grew up on a farm, laughs at me and tells a few stories of the old days. It doesn’t help.

I go out to feed the chickens and the remaining roosters stare at me. Obviously unhappy that the one who has rescued them from tormenting dogs, pulled them out of bushes and provided daily food and water has now turned on them. You can see them wondering who is next.

I’m not going to go into the gory details but let me say that those step by step instructions that make it sound so easy are wrong. When it was over, I ended up with a good meal in the freezer and a day’s worth of cleaning in the kitchen and I had totally lost my appetite. Wet feathers stick to EVERYTHING! And worse, once it was plucked, it had goosebumps.

It’s taken me two days to even suck up my nerve enough to write about it. Ned tells me that by the time, I have the last two in the pot, I will be an expert. I’m not sure how to tell him that the last two may die of old age before I screw up my courage to go through this again.

On the other hand, the hens are little happier now with one less pesky rooster. With 4 roosters and 3 hens, they were sadly outnumbered. The roosters wouldn’t even let them eat. Egg production had fallen off and the hens were avoiding food to avoid the harrassment from the boys.

I have a whole new respect for our foremothers who did this and more on a daily basis. I think I like gardening better. The tomatoes never stared at me reproachfully. And the cucumbers never turned away after a harvest. I don’t think I am ready to be a vegetarian but grocery store meat does have it’s advantages.