I have been thinking lately about getting chickens. They are great for eggs and meat and do a great job of ridding the yard of ticks and chiggers. Thinking of this reminded me of an earlier time in my life.
I was about 6 years old. My folks rented a farm from the farmer down the road. Dad was a truck driver and mom stayed home with us kids. The closest thing to work she did was help the farmer sometimes by driving the tractor. We lived in a big old two story farm house. We had no indoor plumbing. Just a hand pump at the kitchen sink. We heated water in a galvanized bucket on the wood stove. We bathed in a large round tub in the kitchen by the stove. No indoor toilet either. We had an outhouse. However, at some point we must have came into some money because we got a chemical toilet for in the house. We were uptown now! We only used the downstairs as there was no heat upstairs and it stayed locked during the winter. In the summer we played up there and when chicken time came my folks put an incubator up there and hatched baby chicks. They were so cute and yellow and fuzzy. When they were old enough they went out to the coop. We also raised rabbits for meat. (Yuck) Now comes the day when other things happen besides collecting the eggs.
My parent had these close friends. We called them Aunt Fran and Uncle Everett. They came over one day for dinner. What I didn't know was that the murdering was about to begin. That day I got my first lesson on how to kill chickens. You can imagine to a 6 year old this might be quite unnerving. Dad and uncle Everett were really into this killing thing as they each had their own style. They went behind the coop but I could still see them. Daddy just grabbed the neck and pulled their head off...OH HOW AWFUL! Uncle Everett however, had a bit more style. He'd just hold them by their head and swing them round and round till their head came off. YIKES, OH NO! I had seen enough and headed back around the corner to my mom and aunt Fran. Meanwhile, there was killing going on there too but at least the two ladies did it with a bit more class. They had a stump with 2 nails in the top. They put the chickens head between the nails, rested their foot lightly on the head so the chicken could not pull away and WAM! Down came the axe. Much more humane. Then they would just throw the chicken down and go on to the next.
Now comes the question...does a chicken know it's dead if it's head is missing? It was at one of those times that I was walking by and WAM, down came the axe, the chicken was tossed and as it hit the ground it popped up and started running...yes....I said running, straight toward me. I started screaming and about that time the chicken ran right between my legs, blood squirting up out of it's neck and right up the front and back of my nice white 1 piece jumper shorts. It's a wonder I wasn't traumatized for life. Now it is just plain funny.
So, as I ponder on whether to get chickens and can I kill them for food, I keep wondering if that crazed chicken will make a reappearance.
OH.....and the question? Well, after all these years I'm still not sure.
Happy Trails!
I was about 6 years old. My folks rented a farm from the farmer down the road. Dad was a truck driver and mom stayed home with us kids. The closest thing to work she did was help the farmer sometimes by driving the tractor. We lived in a big old two story farm house. We had no indoor plumbing. Just a hand pump at the kitchen sink. We heated water in a galvanized bucket on the wood stove. We bathed in a large round tub in the kitchen by the stove. No indoor toilet either. We had an outhouse. However, at some point we must have came into some money because we got a chemical toilet for in the house. We were uptown now! We only used the downstairs as there was no heat upstairs and it stayed locked during the winter. In the summer we played up there and when chicken time came my folks put an incubator up there and hatched baby chicks. They were so cute and yellow and fuzzy. When they were old enough they went out to the coop. We also raised rabbits for meat. (Yuck) Now comes the day when other things happen besides collecting the eggs.
My parent had these close friends. We called them Aunt Fran and Uncle Everett. They came over one day for dinner. What I didn't know was that the murdering was about to begin. That day I got my first lesson on how to kill chickens. You can imagine to a 6 year old this might be quite unnerving. Dad and uncle Everett were really into this killing thing as they each had their own style. They went behind the coop but I could still see them. Daddy just grabbed the neck and pulled their head off...OH HOW AWFUL! Uncle Everett however, had a bit more style. He'd just hold them by their head and swing them round and round till their head came off. YIKES, OH NO! I had seen enough and headed back around the corner to my mom and aunt Fran. Meanwhile, there was killing going on there too but at least the two ladies did it with a bit more class. They had a stump with 2 nails in the top. They put the chickens head between the nails, rested their foot lightly on the head so the chicken could not pull away and WAM! Down came the axe. Much more humane. Then they would just throw the chicken down and go on to the next.
Now comes the question...does a chicken know it's dead if it's head is missing? It was at one of those times that I was walking by and WAM, down came the axe, the chicken was tossed and as it hit the ground it popped up and started running...yes....I said running, straight toward me. I started screaming and about that time the chicken ran right between my legs, blood squirting up out of it's neck and right up the front and back of my nice white 1 piece jumper shorts. It's a wonder I wasn't traumatized for life. Now it is just plain funny.
So, as I ponder on whether to get chickens and can I kill them for food, I keep wondering if that crazed chicken will make a reappearance.
OH.....and the question? Well, after all these years I'm still not sure.
Happy Trails!
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