Circle of Life Lessons Cont.
It's decided. After reading up on harvesting and processing chickens at home and watching a YouTube video or two, Ed and I decide:
This is going to take more time than we think.
Boiling feathers are going to really stink up our tiny galley kitchen with no exhaust fan, and then fill the house with a smell which I pretty much know is worse than wet Labrador.
A quick napkin cost/benefit analysis puts a Bunsen burner to do the operation outside way down on the list of budget items we need for the farm.
These Polish roosters are mostly feathers, what meat there is I am sure I don't want to eat. I am too pissed off at them to be reverent.
So the next best idea, we will let Nature work this one out.
As the sun begins to set, Ed grabs 2 beers and a towel as says" lets do this". I follow him, rubbing the top of my hand. The swelling has gone down slightly and now the whole of my right hand is a tie dye of grotesque pigments; the last straw of unsolicited rooster attacks. He ducks into the chicken house and emerges with a full towel. "Is that the one with the blue mark on his wing?" I had marked the SOB so I could run away from him." Nope". "Well go back in and get him" "KK". So we take our two loud-mouths and trudge to the back of the north field, past the pond, to where we hear the coyote sounds at night. When our feet sink into the marshy ground Ed puts down his towel and out flutters ‘Gonzo’, the cocky bastard. I release ‘Animal’, he actually turns around and gives me the sideways dance that means "I'm coming to get you". ‘Gonzo’ actually gives a great big crow. We say "goodnight", take a swig of beer and head home. Ed calls back over his shoulder " hakuna matada- assholes". I love this man.
Next morning we both listen . Nothing. Ed goes to the kitchen to make coffee. Still nothing. Relief, Nature has solved the problem for us. I get up to go to the bathroom and I hear it-Ed says "you're not going to believe this"- We look out the kitchen window and see one really pissed off Polish rooster. ‘Gonzo’, is staring into the chicken house window crowing his head off. He is tattered , wet , and has no tail feathers. I run out to check him- no blue on his feathers. At least, this one wasn't my attacker. The quandary remains, and now, in the light of morning, and with no beer buzz, I feel like I have let down my Joel Salatin, ideal Farmer woman. I have been irreverent, I gave it over to a coyote. Now here is this pathetic fellow- humiliated, wet and who knows what kind of night he had or how he found his way back. As I open the chicken window, the girls flow out and down the ramp, file past him murmuring, and go about their morning routine.
Test #2- I give myself a D but we get a few humor points.
Gonzo gets a free pass when someone actually answers my Craig's list add and drives an hour and a half to pick up his sorry butt and take him to a life of Riley at a fancy horse barn. I hold my tongue as I load him into the back of a Lexus SUV and wave and smile.
Spring comes and the chickens are fully adults. The Colonel, our 'gentle' Rooster, is magnificent. He has a quieter less frequent crow and an elegant strut. He stays busy. Without the competition of the other two, he turns his full attention to getting it on with the girls- everyone of them- several times a day. Their backs become bare from the constant mounting and, as his breed is substantially bigger than theirs, this distresses me. Stress on the girls affects egg laying. Then, he begins to assert himself towards us; even Ed- and that's bad. We both have bruises on our calves- farm tattoos.
So this time I have done more research. It appears that if I drive 22 miles to Twin Cities Packing in Clinton, for 5 dollars I can have the Colonel "processed" and he will be brought back ready to go in the crock pot. Cool , our first harvest.He served us well, watched over the girls, but now he's of no more use and I feel fine about my decision. I made a painting of him over the winter. Second revenue stream off of one animal. I'm on a roll here- Joel would be proud. Good and happy life- check. Healthy animal- check. Responsible for death- check.
I call and make the appointment. Who knew you have to make a death appointment for a chicken but it seems as important as a hair cut. I crate him up early in the morning. He is quiet in the crate next to me in the truck. Next morning I go and retrieve him. I am amazed at how small he is, frozen and shrink wrapped, with a barcode plastered over him. He has been transformed. He is ugly. My heart sinks. Instead of cooking him in a crock pot and simmering gently I use a recipe my sister gives me and spatchcock him in a cast iron skillet. It is late, we are tired from working outside all day, I am a little sad. I take a bite and immediately want to spit it out. I tell Ed "Do not eat that". I pride myself on being a pretty good cook, but I have cooked something absolutely in-edible. It is terrible. I have ruined this beautiful and elegant bird. I did not do him justice , I am ashamed and distraught. I gather what's on our plates, go to the kitchen pull out my crock-pot, put all the rest of the Colonel in the crock pot then add vegetables, an onion, a glass of really good white wine , a bay leaf, some grinds of salt and fresh pepper. I fill the pot with cold water and put the lid on. I will make a stock from him. We eat the rest of our supper in silence.
Test #3- D.
Circle of life is spinning me hard. I have a lot to learn.