Bye-Bye, Chickens!
Meagan decided to raise chickens this spring. It was not a sudden decision. She thought about it for nearly a year, researched carefully, and built a secure chicken coop all by herself after finding the plans online. All of this was precipitated by a single bad experience with store-bought chicken breasts. She will explain in great detail if you ask her about it.
Before she took the plunge into raising chickens, Meagan made sure that some experienced chicken farmers would be available to help with that daunting butchering process. Guess who she chose? Yup, Bill and me.
When he was a teenager, Bill had helped his mom's cousin, Gertrude, butcher chickens when he was helping out on the farm near Albin, Wyoming, during the summer. And some of my earliest memories include "helping" my mom catch a few frantic chickens with her special chicken catcher, then watching them flop around for a few minutes after she removed their heads. I remember observing intently as my grandma and great-grandma helped Mom pluck and gut the chickens, remove any unlaid eggs, and cut and package the chickens. Bill and I both learned, rather early in our lives, that farm-raised chicken is the best!
So, when we lived in Michigan, we decided to refurbish our deserted chicken coop, and go into the chicken business with our friends, Ron and Bev, who were old pros with chickens. I don't remember exactly how many baby chicks we bought, but it was at least a couple dozen. The four of us worked together one cool Saturday to dispatch those unfortunate eight-week-old birds and process them for our freezers.
Now, Meagan's husband, Andy, was a little skeptical of Meagan's chicken-raising endeavor, but he was willing to let her try, as long as he didn't have to assist with the butchering. Tobin and Evie both enjoyed holding the fluffy baby chicks when they were still at the box stage--kept in a cardboard box, under lights, in the basement. But Meagan and Andy told the kids, from the first day, that the chickens would only be around for a little while.
Andy had planned to take Tobin and Evelyn to the air show for the morning, then to their other grandparents' house for afternoon naps. As they were getting ready to leave, Meagan told Tobin that the chickens would be gone when they got back. Tobin didn't question where the chickens were going, although he had told me earlier that they had to go back to the store. He ran out to the chicken coop, yelled "Bye-bye, chickens!" and headed to the car, excited to be spending the day looking at airplanes with his dad and sister.
After Andy and the kids were gone for the day, Meagan and Bill and I got down to business. It was a gorgeous day to be working outside. I won't freak you out with the gory details, but I will say that the whole process was much easier than any of us were expecting. We butchered nineteen chickens that day. Andy returned in the afternoon, while the kids were napping, to help us package the meat. Bill and I are hoarding ours for awhile yet, but Meagan has assured me that the meat is so good that Tobin and Evie have been eating much more chicken that ever before.
Will we do it again? Probably. Unless Meagan decides to forego raising chickens in favor of a pig or two. She has already started researching. And, the best thing about raising a pig? We don't have to butcher it ourselves!
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| Meagan's chickens |
When he was a teenager, Bill had helped his mom's cousin, Gertrude, butcher chickens when he was helping out on the farm near Albin, Wyoming, during the summer. And some of my earliest memories include "helping" my mom catch a few frantic chickens with her special chicken catcher, then watching them flop around for a few minutes after she removed their heads. I remember observing intently as my grandma and great-grandma helped Mom pluck and gut the chickens, remove any unlaid eggs, and cut and package the chickens. Bill and I both learned, rather early in our lives, that farm-raised chicken is the best!
So, when we lived in Michigan, we decided to refurbish our deserted chicken coop, and go into the chicken business with our friends, Ron and Bev, who were old pros with chickens. I don't remember exactly how many baby chicks we bought, but it was at least a couple dozen. The four of us worked together one cool Saturday to dispatch those unfortunate eight-week-old birds and process them for our freezers.
Now, Meagan's husband, Andy, was a little skeptical of Meagan's chicken-raising endeavor, but he was willing to let her try, as long as he didn't have to assist with the butchering. Tobin and Evie both enjoyed holding the fluffy baby chicks when they were still at the box stage--kept in a cardboard box, under lights, in the basement. But Meagan and Andy told the kids, from the first day, that the chickens would only be around for a little while.
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| Gentle touches |
So the fateful day finally arrived. Victoria wanted nothing to do with butchering chickens, of course, and we didn't even tell Levi what Bill and I were doing when we left him home with Victoria for the day. After all, that boy who used to love to eat fish has refused to touch it since the first day we took him fishing. Since chicken is about the only meat he will eat willingly, we didn't want to take a chance that he might be okay with butchering chickens. Fat chance!
Andy had planned to take Tobin and Evelyn to the air show for the morning, then to their other grandparents' house for afternoon naps. As they were getting ready to leave, Meagan told Tobin that the chickens would be gone when they got back. Tobin didn't question where the chickens were going, although he had told me earlier that they had to go back to the store. He ran out to the chicken coop, yelled "Bye-bye, chickens!" and headed to the car, excited to be spending the day looking at airplanes with his dad and sister.
After Andy and the kids were gone for the day, Meagan and Bill and I got down to business. It was a gorgeous day to be working outside. I won't freak you out with the gory details, but I will say that the whole process was much easier than any of us were expecting. We butchered nineteen chickens that day. Andy returned in the afternoon, while the kids were napping, to help us package the meat. Bill and I are hoarding ours for awhile yet, but Meagan has assured me that the meat is so good that Tobin and Evie have been eating much more chicken that ever before.
Will we do it again? Probably. Unless Meagan decides to forego raising chickens in favor of a pig or two. She has already started researching. And, the best thing about raising a pig? We don't have to butcher it ourselves!
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| Bye-bye, chickens! |
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