Season of the Chickens

When I was around ten years old my Mom came home with a box of chicks, definitely an impulse buy. Anyway, my Dad had to build a coop and we were eventually going to have fresh chicken. The chicken coop was an A-frame made from old boards that were gray from the elements. There was a long trough inside for their food and an opening in the front leading to a fenced area outside. Looking back it was quite a nice chicken coop.

There were 25 chicks at the beginning, and I believe 17 at the end. We had problems with raccoons and such. One chicken in particular survived an attack and managed the rest of his life with one leg. It was a pretty amazing feat to me at the time.

The problem I had was that I always had pets, and I spent enough time with the chickens to kind of see them as pets too. I was always the one to feed them and had no problems picking them up like they were a cat. It seems I was out at the coop every day watching them grow and interacting as much as you can with a chicken. I don't remember how long it took them to grow, but I do remember when my Dad said they were ready to eat.

Butchering chickens is definitely not for the light hearted. I helped pluck after their heads were off and they had gone in to the big cast iron pot of boiling water. It was a messy project and my sister and I were not real happy to help. It is a wonder I still eat chicken, I know I went awhile after that experience.

It was such a mess and hassle killing and cleaning the chickens that my Mom never did bring home chicks again, thank God. So why do I bring this up? I found some pictures of me as a kid and there it was, one of me holding a chicken and grinning, being the tomboy I was. I love animals enough that I should be a vegetarian, but I guess I am more of a carnivore. Even though I love my steaks, burgers, and chicken, please don't ever introduce me to dinner when it is alive, that definitely takes all the taste out of it.