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- #31
dainerra - No, no, I wasn't offended in the least, and didn't take it as criticism at all. I was just trying to preface my rationale for settling on a different method with a buffer to maybe offset any offense *I* might cause. We're all good. I agree with another poster, that any dispatch that is, to the dispatcher, solemn and respectful and appreciative, and to the dispatchee, as quick and painless as possible, is a dispatch that is done as well as it can be. It's a necessary evil, and we all find our way to deal with it.
I did a lot of research before chickens ever got on this property about dispatching, because I - well, I know who I am. I research. I want to do things the best way. And I didn't want to find myself with a severely injured chicken, in pain, and me be trying to figure out how to end its suffering on the internet. I wanted to be prepared. Then, when time came for culling roos, I just ... still wasn't. I think I had learned enough previously that I would have been able to step up and cut the throat of a desperate bird, to ease her through, but premeditated harvesting? That required more thought and planning and ... deliberateness, if that makes sense. It was even more important, to me, to make a clean and calm and painless as possible end for a chicken that I was killing deliberately, only to simplify my chicken housing situation and to put food on my table.
A suffering chicken that deserved a quick end? Do it, do it quickly, any pain you cause in the doing is less than they would suffer if you left them to die naturally, just get it done.
A deliberately culled bird? Oh my rock, this requires great love and responsibility in the culling, and I wanted to give them that.
It's entirely possible that I overthink things. Likely, even.
Halo, and others re: skinning vs. plucking: Despite my initial plan, I did both.
I am 43, and I have the heavy feather pillows that I slept on when I was little. They've compressed so much over the years that I wound up putting both together into one zippered pillow cover a decade ago or so, but that one pillow probably weighs fifteen pounds. When it gets washed, the seams get picked out and the feathers get washed and laid out to dry and fluffed and a week later I have a pillow put back together. It's chicken feather, through and through. And I love it.
I am finally in a position to retire it, eventually. I have a source of chicken feathers! So, I collect feathers from the run , and I plucked the chickens I processed yesterday, and today I get to wash feathers to start making a feather stash for, one day, new feather pillows.
And, again, this is part of my respect for the life lost thing, where I want to use every piece possible. Again, with the overthinking, probably.
I have stock on the stovetop! Woo! Can I say how weird it feels to be cooking feet? Yesterday I was skinning them - for two hours, mind you, because I might not be fast but I'm not a quitter - and I was looking at scales. Lizardy! And then looking across the table at wings with that pterodactyl finger poking out the leading edge. And talking to the teen about evolution and Darwin and "lookit! You can see the dinosaur in them!" - and all I could hear in my head was Crocodile Rock by Elton John. Probably mostly because of the Crocodile and the mention of feet.
I remember when rock was young
Me and Suzie had so much fun
holding hands and skimming stones
Had an old gold Chevy and a place of my own
But the biggest kick I ever got
was doing a thing called the Crocodile Rock
While the other kids were Rocking Round the Clock
we were hopping and bopping to the Crocodile Rock
Well Crocodile Rocking is something shocking
when your feet just can't keep still
I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will
Oh Lawdy mama those Friday nights
when Suzie wore her dresses tight
and the Crocodile Rocking was out of sight
Ooh. Stock just started boiling - I can smell it!
I did a lot of research before chickens ever got on this property about dispatching, because I - well, I know who I am. I research. I want to do things the best way. And I didn't want to find myself with a severely injured chicken, in pain, and me be trying to figure out how to end its suffering on the internet. I wanted to be prepared. Then, when time came for culling roos, I just ... still wasn't. I think I had learned enough previously that I would have been able to step up and cut the throat of a desperate bird, to ease her through, but premeditated harvesting? That required more thought and planning and ... deliberateness, if that makes sense. It was even more important, to me, to make a clean and calm and painless as possible end for a chicken that I was killing deliberately, only to simplify my chicken housing situation and to put food on my table.
A suffering chicken that deserved a quick end? Do it, do it quickly, any pain you cause in the doing is less than they would suffer if you left them to die naturally, just get it done.
A deliberately culled bird? Oh my rock, this requires great love and responsibility in the culling, and I wanted to give them that.
It's entirely possible that I overthink things. Likely, even.
Halo, and others re: skinning vs. plucking: Despite my initial plan, I did both.
I am 43, and I have the heavy feather pillows that I slept on when I was little. They've compressed so much over the years that I wound up putting both together into one zippered pillow cover a decade ago or so, but that one pillow probably weighs fifteen pounds. When it gets washed, the seams get picked out and the feathers get washed and laid out to dry and fluffed and a week later I have a pillow put back together. It's chicken feather, through and through. And I love it.
I am finally in a position to retire it, eventually. I have a source of chicken feathers! So, I collect feathers from the run , and I plucked the chickens I processed yesterday, and today I get to wash feathers to start making a feather stash for, one day, new feather pillows.
And, again, this is part of my respect for the life lost thing, where I want to use every piece possible. Again, with the overthinking, probably.
I have stock on the stovetop! Woo! Can I say how weird it feels to be cooking feet? Yesterday I was skinning them - for two hours, mind you, because I might not be fast but I'm not a quitter - and I was looking at scales. Lizardy! And then looking across the table at wings with that pterodactyl finger poking out the leading edge. And talking to the teen about evolution and Darwin and "lookit! You can see the dinosaur in them!" - and all I could hear in my head was Crocodile Rock by Elton John. Probably mostly because of the Crocodile and the mention of feet.
I remember when rock was young
Me and Suzie had so much fun
holding hands and skimming stones
Had an old gold Chevy and a place of my own
But the biggest kick I ever got
was doing a thing called the Crocodile Rock
While the other kids were Rocking Round the Clock
we were hopping and bopping to the Crocodile Rock
Well Crocodile Rocking is something shocking
when your feet just can't keep still
I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will
Oh Lawdy mama those Friday nights
when Suzie wore her dresses tight
and the Crocodile Rocking was out of sight
Ooh. Stock just started boiling - I can smell it!
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