Sorry about the little bunny but his memory will live on.
I know about cantankerous old farts, my dad was one. He was mush on the inside, crying at funerals, etc. But he was hard as nails on the outside and I was scared to death of him until I got on my own. He once decided he wanted to raise meat rabbits and we did. Cutest little bunnies and we loved them dearly. When they got to be juveniles, into another big cage they'd go to fatten up. My uncle came to show him how to process them and we ate rabbit for a while. So time came for my dad to process his first rabbit. He took a hammer (who knows how hard that was for him) and struck at its head, didn't hit it in the right place or not hard enough, who knows (I couldn't watch). Well, that rabbit squealed so loudly the neighbors came running. He did finish the poor thing off but it was his first and last attempt to do so. In 3 days all the rabbits had been given away. Even in his older days, he still remembered that squeal and how he felt.
Ouch. Poor guy. That had to have worn on his conscience for the memory to be that well etched.
I get the feeling I'm going to be the one slicing necks. Mike swears he'll do it. But, I can tell you, that first cull in a couple of months is going to be more than he can handle. A grown chicken, not so much problem. But, culling chicks is going to be problematic for him - even if I do intend to use them for making things like broths and dog/cat food.
OMG, Yinepu...you should have heard Mike, last night. He saw the wingbands for the first time. He was all, "Is that right? There's no way that's where it belongs. Are you sure it's right?" I was all **deep sigh**, "Yes, honey, it's right." Mike, "That just looks wrong. Are you sure?" I warned him that if he kept it up I was going to kick him. He finally stopped; but, I swear - he's more of a mother hen than I ever am. It's the wonder they are ever let out of sight between my husband and me.they can be put on straight from the hatcher
