Last Saturday, we took the Buff Orpington roosters over to a good friend's house, and she showed me how to process them. I was afraid to watch the first one die, but I wanted to learn with the second one. It's amazing how quickly your mind transitions from "chicken-bird-creature" to "chicken: food." Especially once he's plucked.
The Sunday morning afterward, I didn't think I would need the alarm. But the quiet caught me by surprise, and I accidently slept in a little. I guess the roosters were an effective alarm clock, after all.
The kids took it well. Cutie asked to see the chicken after we had scalded him, but before we plucked him. She recognized it, but she seemed to realize that something had changed. We had prepared Precious and Bubby for this reality a month and a half ago. By the time the processing day had arrived, they were ready for the roosters to go. They petted them goodbye before we left the house (buffs are among the friendlier breeds), and there were no tears as they watched our animals become food.
I think this experience gets a "thumbs-up." I think I could do it again to a Buff Orpington, but probably not to a Silkie. Funny how that works.
The Sunday morning afterward, I didn't think I would need the alarm. But the quiet caught me by surprise, and I accidently slept in a little. I guess the roosters were an effective alarm clock, after all.
The kids took it well. Cutie asked to see the chicken after we had scalded him, but before we plucked him. She recognized it, but she seemed to realize that something had changed. We had prepared Precious and Bubby for this reality a month and a half ago. By the time the processing day had arrived, they were ready for the roosters to go. They petted them goodbye before we left the house (buffs are among the friendlier breeds), and there were no tears as they watched our animals become food.
I think this experience gets a "thumbs-up." I think I could do it again to a Buff Orpington, but probably not to a Silkie. Funny how that works.
Comments