The saga of the cockerels is finally at an end!
I told the girls months and months ago that they were going to grow up to be trouble. Oh no, not these sweeties! They would have no giving away, no separate pens, no chicken tractors for their beloved boys. They were so sweet, you see.
Eventually, of course, they made it impossible for the girls to be in the coop with their beloved pullets. Pullets oR cockerels I said. Nooooo! they cried.
Recently in the last month or two, they stopped going in the coop and even I was getting tired of fending off annoying attacks by little bantam brats. Finally, the girls were looking forward to when our neighbors would butcher their birds. I was skeptical they would be on board..
Today--whoa! He's in the middle of butchering and I went to check it out. Brought home a crate in the trunk. "Yes!" the girls both cried. "Now!" All the cockerels, just not Bandit (we agreed on Bandit). Brownie? No....... we agreed *all* the cockerels except Bandit. OK. Family affair catching the cockerels-- pretty easy since they were hiding from the rain in the coop. Left the girls behind to enjoy their nearly cockerel-free coop.
Say bye bye to the boys! Poor boys. Waited in the trunk until it was "their turn". I couldn't watch. I don't think I could ever do the killing, even though the cleaning doesn't phase me (or so I thought). And it never did. Once the deed was done, I had no trouble scalding and plucking and cleaning them out. Tough little dudes, being so old and tiny. Poor "Coop-coop-a-doop" Cooper. He was so tiny and I was so done that his body went into the bucket for the coyotes. Sorry, little dude, but you were a Butt.
Helped my neighbor clean a couple of his birds, younger and bigger (and therefore easier in every way to clean.) I went away with the same impression as I went in with-- the cleaning didn't bug me, the killing did. I didn't even mind cleaning "Flyer" and "George", calling them all by name.
Looking forward to the calm tomorrow. The girls finally learned The Lesson. I'm glad I had the patience to let them learn it through experience. I'm also glad these were little banty's--more irritating than dangerous.
Now they *know* the Trouble With Cockerels, and I don't think I will ever have quite the same struggle as I had this year. But next year? Sexed pullets all the way, baby. I need a couple years to recuperate.
FIN
I told the girls months and months ago that they were going to grow up to be trouble. Oh no, not these sweeties! They would have no giving away, no separate pens, no chicken tractors for their beloved boys. They were so sweet, you see.
Eventually, of course, they made it impossible for the girls to be in the coop with their beloved pullets. Pullets oR cockerels I said. Nooooo! they cried.
Recently in the last month or two, they stopped going in the coop and even I was getting tired of fending off annoying attacks by little bantam brats. Finally, the girls were looking forward to when our neighbors would butcher their birds. I was skeptical they would be on board..
Today--whoa! He's in the middle of butchering and I went to check it out. Brought home a crate in the trunk. "Yes!" the girls both cried. "Now!" All the cockerels, just not Bandit (we agreed on Bandit). Brownie? No....... we agreed *all* the cockerels except Bandit. OK. Family affair catching the cockerels-- pretty easy since they were hiding from the rain in the coop. Left the girls behind to enjoy their nearly cockerel-free coop.
Say bye bye to the boys! Poor boys. Waited in the trunk until it was "their turn". I couldn't watch. I don't think I could ever do the killing, even though the cleaning doesn't phase me (or so I thought). And it never did. Once the deed was done, I had no trouble scalding and plucking and cleaning them out. Tough little dudes, being so old and tiny. Poor "Coop-coop-a-doop" Cooper. He was so tiny and I was so done that his body went into the bucket for the coyotes. Sorry, little dude, but you were a Butt.
Helped my neighbor clean a couple of his birds, younger and bigger (and therefore easier in every way to clean.) I went away with the same impression as I went in with-- the cleaning didn't bug me, the killing did. I didn't even mind cleaning "Flyer" and "George", calling them all by name.
Looking forward to the calm tomorrow. The girls finally learned The Lesson. I'm glad I had the patience to let them learn it through experience. I'm also glad these were little banty's--more irritating than dangerous.
Now they *know* the Trouble With Cockerels, and I don't think I will ever have quite the same struggle as I had this year. But next year? Sexed pullets all the way, baby. I need a couple years to recuperate.
FIN