Yesterday was a momentous day for us. Some friends of ours, who are a one month and twenty chickens ahead of us in their chicken raising ventures, were ready to slaughter their roosters. They invited some of us suburb-slickers over to learn the finer points of killing and cleaning an animal, giving everyone an opportunity to kill their first chicken.
I’ve had some bad experiences around blood and guts in the past, and am proud to report that although I didn’t participate as chicken holder or axe-wielder, I did successfully watch without passing out. (small, achievable goals, right?) My favorite part was watching my manly husband swing that big old axe. What a stud.
We learned how to pluck and clean the chickens as well; it was much easier and less gross than I imagined it would be. And our gracious hosts sent us each home with a couple of cleaned roosters which we will be enjoying for dinner this week. Can’t get much fresher than that.