Yeehaa! You look like you.. A soon to be farmer..
Girl, I came from the FARM.
I can remember back in the late 50's/early 60's, we live on about a 60 acre farm way out in the boonies. We had goats, chickens, cows, goats, pigs. I was only about 5-7 years at the time, but every year, we had that yearly slaughtering (oh, for the politically correct.."Processing"), and I was there. Pappa (my grandpa...Bishop Ollie Whiteside) would come out to our farm, shoot those big boars right between the eyes, squirming around in circles like the were one of the three stooges), they were then held up on big hooks and split down the middle, entrails and blood...the works into a big canning tub. Some of the attendees would actually grab a cup and drink the warm blood. YUK! All the meat was shared.
We would then go to Pappa's house ( he had at least 70 acres) and did the same "processing". His hogs were huge,at least 1,100 pounds.We again shared all the meat.
My dad drove coal truck during the day and farmed in the evening. We had hay, oats, wheat, corn etc. We had the combines, haybaylers, cornpickers, the works. Meanwhile, Mamma out in the backyard ringing chickens' necks. Us small kids screamed and shot up the trees like squirrels, watching those headless hens flopping around the yard. Seven kids with a gap, three of us younger ones under 9 years old, Four older ones were teenagers over 16 years old. I come from an old family, my dad passed a few years ago at 89, and my mom is still hanging in there and will be 94 in December.
I would actually sit at the kitchen table while my mom (my buddy) plucked the chickens (after boiled(?) and spread on newspaper). She pulled out all the innards, unlaid eggs. I must have been about 7 years old at the time, and we discussed the chicken. Its purpose and what it provided for us. Didn't bother me for a hot minute, because that was our meal for the evening.
I can't talk too much about the FARM, because I have extremely fond childhood memories about it, and it makes me cry every time someone mentions it. Meanwhile, my older teenage siblings were going through all the 60's prejudice and racism that I was totally clueless about, being a child at the time.
It's water under the bridge now, but I think my dad sold all that property for about $9,000 back in the early 60's before he built that sprawling ranch house in 1965.
Sorry for another essay, but I came from the FARM. I may look the part of a city slicker, wearing all kinds of pinstripe suits, fancy ties and expensive Georgio Brutini shoes (and, Lord, I have quite the wardrobe for the red carpet), I'm just a down-to-earth guy who's got life issues like everbody else.
Ooh, I didn't mean to take it this far...DId I share to much information? --BB
Bobby Basham
Tucson, Arizona
I thought I would share a picture of my stray hen with the big spurs. You will understand my confusion of her sex. Lol
Notice how different her barring looks than this production PBR?
I agree she looks like a Heritage x production BR, that is what I thought after she got dried off. I still have no idea where she is from. I know there are chickens around me because I can hear roosters crowing but they are not close.She could be a cross between production and standard bred. Her barring is better than production but still not as crisp as standard bred. Especially on her saddle area. Below is a photo of one of my Good Shepard standard bred Barred Rocks. Occasionally hens will have spurs. I have a German New Hampshire with spurs like your hen. It is considered a fault for showing.
