My boys (ages 8 and 10) could not WAIT for dispatch day, which I kept putting off because of this reason or that reason (I was stalling...I'd never killed anything before bigger than a spider). They watched the whole process and helped with the plucking. When I sliced the jugular and Boring Boy (first cockerel to be dispatched) and he started flapping around, my boys giggled...while I'm thinking "Lord I hope he's not suffering". Then when I cut his head off (and he still flapped) they laughed hysterically, and they wanted me to take him down so they could watch him flap around without a head on the ground.
Sigh. Boys.
Then just a few days ago I trapped a coon that was getting into my chick feed...and hubby went to the gun cabinet to get his .22. My eldest said "Dad, can I do it?" and hubby said "You sure you want too?". My son replied, "Yea, Dad, I'm sure. If I'm gonna go hunting with you for deer when I'm old enough, I need to know how to kill an animal, right?". So my 10 year old put the barrel to the coon's head and pulled the trigger. Now, the reason hubby was gonna do it was because I couldn't. If it had been a huge, vicious male, then perhaps I could. But this was a juvenile male, and was more scared than anything. But by law for my county, I couldn't relocate the coon, nor release it back on my property (which I wouldn't do anyway...wasn't going to face future slaughter of my chickens), and the coon had to be dispatched. My son took care of it, without batting an eye.
Sigh. Boys.
Sigh. Boys.
Then just a few days ago I trapped a coon that was getting into my chick feed...and hubby went to the gun cabinet to get his .22. My eldest said "Dad, can I do it?" and hubby said "You sure you want too?". My son replied, "Yea, Dad, I'm sure. If I'm gonna go hunting with you for deer when I'm old enough, I need to know how to kill an animal, right?". So my 10 year old put the barrel to the coon's head and pulled the trigger. Now, the reason hubby was gonna do it was because I couldn't. If it had been a huge, vicious male, then perhaps I could. But this was a juvenile male, and was more scared than anything. But by law for my county, I couldn't relocate the coon, nor release it back on my property (which I wouldn't do anyway...wasn't going to face future slaughter of my chickens), and the coon had to be dispatched. My son took care of it, without batting an eye.
Sigh. Boys.