I've done 3 home chicken slaughters so far, and I've gained confidence. So much that I decided to include my DH in the processing of two young roos we had roaming at large on our farm. They had been crossing the road (bwah!) and getting into the neighbor's yard, much to the old man's vexation. Time for rooster stew. We took the roosters, alive, back to our city home, so I could have access to running water and refrigeration. I told my husband not to worry ... a quick slit of the throat, a few rustles, and bob's your uncle. No neighbor the wiser, the whole affair discrete and painless for all involved. Naaah. The first rooster hangs upside down and bleeds quietly for a bit, then starts furiously squawking and beating its wings. Good lord, did I miss the arteries altogether? I cut the throat again, just to be sure. It takes a couple of minutes before he looked good and dead. I wasn't going to have the same thing happen again with the next chicken, so I cut it very deeply and I got sprayed with blood. Again with the flapping and squawking. I turned to my husband, dripping, waving the bloody knife and saying "It's ok! Just the death throes." He bolted for the house, aghast. Not only that, but after I coaxed him back outside to help pluck the chickens, my chicken--dead as a doornail, I'm telling you--uttered a plaintive squawk when I turned it upside down. Hub almost jumped out of his lawn chair. I think next time I will try breaking the neck first, just for my own peace of mind.