Well, chooks, I guess we have that in common. I started driving a combine for my Dad on custom harvest runs when I was 13 years old. (The 3 oldest in my family were girls, and we all worked like men, and better than most of the guys my dad hired.) I did that every summer until I went to college. I grew up hunting, and I eat what I hunt. I have out shot every one who has ever challenged me. I can shoot, field dress, process and cook a deer to perfection. I can run a trot line and clean a 40 -50 lb flathead with no problem.
I was an anesthetist for 17 years and could take care of the biggest, bloodiest trauma brought in.
When I met my husband I was the only girl he had ever met who had her own chain saw, table saw and full assortment of shop tools.
But I have my quirks, too. Yes, I hate roaches. They just give me the creeps. Just about the only thing that will make me nauseated, however, is plucking a chicken. I think it goes back to when I was a kid and we would process 50 at a time. I got to do the dunkin' and pluckin'. Just thinking about that smell gets to my stomach even now.
I really sneak away when it comes to cleaning any kind of bird. Just bring them to be bare. I can take care of it from there.