Guest Post by Hardscrabble Farmer
I spent three days slaughtering, plucking, eviscerating and processing meat birds for the family. I let them go longer than usual this year, the biggest weighed almost 18 pounds and the boned breasts were averaging about four and half pounds each once I’d trimmed them out.
It’s a dirty job, you can’t slaughter anything without getting bloody and when it’s one after another for hours on end, you’re pretty well covered by the end of it. I crate the birds up right off the pasture in the morning, then place them, ten to a cage, and when I’m ready draw them out of their pen one at a time, carefully and calmly by their legs. I hang them from a length of baling twine suspended from a branch on the big maple in front of the house.
They will sometimes flap, but after a minute or two they stop moving and I put my hand on their breast and calm them with a few words of thanks. I do this with every bird, probably for myself as much as their sacrifice. I have a small, extremely sharp puuuko knife I got from a neighbor as a gift fifteen years ago, and after extending their neck to bare the skin beneath the feathers, I draw it across their bright red throat and remove the head in a single movement. There is always a short pause as the body of the bird tries to work out what has become of it and then the fight or flight movements kick in and birds will begin to flap their wings as if they were flying away. The movement makes the branch they are suspended from shake and dance in a weird rhythm in synch with the sound of the wings.
It takes everything about three minutes to leave this world, no matter how you dispatch them. It starts as a flurry and a rush, blood spraying from the arteries, feather flashing white and then red. The movements diminish, slowly, almost as if they were scripted, and then there is a renewed flurry until it drops off again, slower, fading, one wing after the other, left, right, left, right…left…right…
The dogs hung out nearby on the grass, aware of everything but feigning indifference to it all. Every so often one of them will look at me with baleful eyes and then quickly look away, hoping they hadn’t done whatever the chickens did. The weather was perfect; not too warm, yet not too cool and the skies were clear with only an occasional cloud. Every once in a while, the sheep would drift past nibbling at the lawn, and while I didn’t speak for most of that time, I listened to a podcast about the fall of Byzantium, then an Englishman reading John Cheever short stories, and later a mix of Pat Metheny then Kool and the Gang. At some point it just got quiet and I stayed in that place for so long I forgot the music had stopped.
A friend dropped by on the first day when I was doing the slaughter part and he ran the birds through the scalder and the plucker and then helped clean everything up when we were done. I sent him home with a nice big bird and then went inside, cleaned up and made chicken livers with Marsala wine, sea salt and thinly sliced white onion. As tired as I was by then, I was twice as hungry and that meal tasted in that moment as good as anything I had ever eaten in my life. My wife poured a glass of wine and sat with me in the candlelight after I’d finished eating and we talked about our children and what a great week they had. I was bone tired but deeply satisfied with my day, with everything.
The next morning after chores I moved into the sugarhouse kitchen and broke the birds down into parts: legs, thighs, breasts and wings. I tossed the small scraps into a bucket for the hogs and the necks and feet and stripped carcasses were bagged up into one-pound portions for chicken stock. Most of the day I was alone, but my neighbor dropped by with his girlfriend and he helped me for a couple of hours before they headed out on their last motorcycle ride of the season. I gave him a nice boneless breast for their dinner and we said goodbye.
When all the totes were filled with chicken parts I started to wrap them in freezer paper; whole double breasts, two one-pound thighs, three legs at a pound and three quarters and wings, eight to a pack, and then the drumettes eight per pack as well. The dogs spent the entire day sleeping on the gravel just outside the door of the sugarhouse, they knew I was inside and the smells must have been especially nice to them because every time I opened the door they’d look up at me and lick their chops, and thoughts they may have had about the slaughter day long forgotten.
About an hour before I finished for the day, I put a pot on the hotplate and poured in a couple cups of water and threw in the hearts and gizzards and brought it to a boil. I strained out the organ meat and when it had cooled, I cut it into rough chunks and then added it back to the broth and divided it into bowls for each of the dogs, oldest to youngest in that order. They know the drill and they watched as each one received its due in silence, without any sign of competition or aggression, They turned to their bowls as I placed them down and stayed at it until they had long been licked clean.
I made wings for dinner. I don’t fry them, I just season them and roast them in the oven until the meat starts to fall away from the bone, and then I tossed them in a homemade sauce of tomato puree, cider vinegar, melted butter and roasted hot peppers. When they were ready my youngest son stood at the kitchen island with me, eating them as if his life depended on it, neither of us talking while we ate.
I understand that when I tell people these things it must sound very small and unimportant in the bigger picture, especially when everyone is worried about uncontrolled immigration, or war in the Ukraine, or political corruption, or the failing economy, or whatever major issue looms over the daily landscape of what passes for the USA these days, but it seems significant to me. I learn something new every time I do this, I get better and better at each part of it, and yet it never gets old.
There is always some kind of beauty, some new knowledge I pick up, some sense of wonder or revelatory meaning in the way the chicken is put together, the way people just show up when I need them, some tidbit of information about some civilization four thousand years ago that sounds like it just happened last week that makes me pause and consider not only what I have heard or seen, but why I am here and how important this is if we are to make it through this troubled time.
I have no idea why we are here and at this stage of the game I no longer worry about discovering the answer. We are here and that’s enough. I have things to do and if it helps feed my family and my friends, if I help build the soil of just one more acre before I go, or build a flock birds that finishes up as nice as this one did, even watch the clouds for a minute as they glide across the face of the Earth as effortlessly as ripple on a lake, it was more than worth all the dirty, difficult, unpleasant and trying parts combined.
It is my sincere desire to provide readers of this site with the best unbiased information available, and a forum where it can be discussed openly, as our Founders intended. But it is not easy nor inexpensive to do so, especially when those who wish to prevent us from making the truth known, attack us without mercy on all fronts on a daily basis. So each time you visit the site, I would ask that you consider the value that you receive and have received from The Burning Platform and the community of which you are a vital part. I can't do it all alone, and I need your help and support to keep it alive. Please consider contributing an amount commensurate to the value that you receive from this site and community, or even by becoming a sustaining supporter through periodic contributions. [Burning Platform LLC - PO Box 1520 Kulpsville, PA 19443] or Paypal
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Admirable, and even though it is one funky job, I’m a bit envious. I haven’t killed and dressed my own meat in awhile and it’s a bummer, because the quality at the supermarket ain’t even close to pasture or wild raised anything. It’s all corn fed crap.
On another note, most people don’t realize how much pigs love meat. A friend’s yard chickens used hop over into his pig sty looking for a tasty morsel only to become a tasty morsel themselves. Chicken feathers would be everywhere…pigs eat those , too. …old sayin’ round these parts is if you want to rid yourself of a body, the pigs is the best way to go…only thing left will be the teeth after passing though the pig , of course.
Yeah, flash should have wrote piggy to have been exact.
And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee all the way to I Hop for goyslop ..
Now THAT’S overkill on the “fattening process.” “Lean” has not place in this description.
Shameless FUPA, and on a guy no less!
FUPA? Like front butt?
male burkas. it’s the law!
Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight’s main event:
Sumo Christie vs Sumo Trump
Battle of the lard asses and New Yaak blowhards.
Christie is fat.
Obese.
That means he has self control issues that have been…lifelong.
Why would I want a guy who has a self control problem to represent me as president?
Woah buddy, maybe it’s a thyroid problem! ( sarc)
I’ve got my first check for a total of thirteen thousand US dollars. I am so energized, this is whenever I first really acquired something. I will work much harder now and I can hardly hang tight for the following week’s installment. Go to the Home tab for more detail. I highly recommend everyone to apply.. www.Payathome7.com
my favorite movie
The upland bird season is in for several species and duck, quail, and Phez season
is right around the corner. My favorite time of year. fill my freezer with wild game.
The butchering process is all part of the hunt.
I guess Hardscrabble should pen another article about slaughtering and butchering pigs.
No matter, the chicken processing I was involved with, the chickens were placed head down in big funnels, their heads cut off, and mostly they bled out into pans beneath the funnels. Some flapped out of the funnels and ran around with their heads cut off. Not for long though, and most of the blood was saved.
Because I was good at it, all I ever got to do was clean them,. i.e. remove their innards.
My stepfather used to riminess about his fathers farm on the outskirts of Milwaukee at the turn of the century. He said the local farmers used to take their wagons to the breweries in Milwaukee, after they had brewed the beer, and fill them with the hops an barley they were discarding. They would take it home and feed it too their pigs weeks before they slaughtered them, which would get very drunk and very fat from the fermented grains. He said that was the best pork he ever tasted in his life…
Our pigs got the apple skins from cider mill before the slaughter, red tinged meat, a tasty piece of cake.
Feral hogs, 15 minutes after escaping containment, in Ukraine, are cleaning up the bodies.
Millions of feral hogs in the US now, billions in damage yearly, moving north.
We still do that in MT…..the cows love it. There is a concept called “One Bad Day”….and HS practices it to perfection. Great life for the chickens and other livestock and then one bad day and it’s over. Living in harmony with the other creatures under our care. The non-hunters and wingnut lefties never understand the depth of connection between the hunter and the prey and the farmer is even more connected to his flock. Like it or not we are all in the circle of life and HS lives it at the highest level of being interwoven into the tapestry, perfection. We should all be so lucky to have such an alignment of purpose and values.
“One Bad Day” sounds like what the NWO has planned for us.
Well, they don’t care about our welfare, they will kill us in the most horrific ways possible,…the jab, starvation, etc. That’s the difference, HSF values the creatures he takes care of. Yes, they are food but until then it is our duty to care for them to the best of our abilities……happy livestock makes better healthier food…..We are enriched by being integrated into the circle of life…..vs. say Lizzo eating 6 Big Macs……processed, high in fat and sodium and chemicals…zero connection to the circle of life……so that’s why she looks like she does….
Poor mans wood chipper.
I think the punishment for pedophiles should be to be kneecapped, gut shot with a .22 and thrown into a pen with a sow and her litter. Having the sow eat them while still alive would be the cruelest punishment I could think of.
Your in a contemplative mood this morning. LMAO.
I often dream of ways that certain lowlifes should be treated, John. Feet first into an industrial size meat slicer set on 1/4″ and lubricated with rubbing alcohol is another. Unfortunately, it would take way to long and be much too expensive to take care of the 10’s of thousands of deserving folks. There are plenty of sows around and .22LR is still relatively cheap, so a mass cleanup would be fairly quick.
If there becomes a .22LR shortage, I will gladly donate a thousand rounds for the purpose stated.
I had a plumber friend in Denver many decades ago, who found out a stupid was abusing his daughter. Mom took the daughter away from the house for a bit of a respite, and when they returned Daddy had the boyfriend tied to his pickup preparing to drag him down the gravel road. Mom intervened but the boyfriend did not come around ever again.
What is a “stupid”?
A napper?
TNPat
I second that n double your offer as there’s definitely 10’s of thousands and likely many more to be treated
I like your stress relief method. I always talk to the wood chipping crews. Tell them can I get a discount on a bulk order of Global Banksters. They usually say no charge for that.
I’m old but would gladly donate 2-3 24 hour shifts manning the MORBARK 50/48 whole tree shredder a week god only knows millions need shredding especially the so called elites who are parasites and the alphabet soup guys.
Tapping your inner leftist?
This could work well for Anal-Schwab, Fink, Gates, Fauci, and their ilk too!
For those at the top, it should be done in public and broadcast live on ALL networks
Recycling at its finest…
Reduce, reuse, and recycle….
Is there a legitimate use for industrial waste?
Law of unintended consequences alert!
Won’t killing the pedos in such a horrific manner provide a strong motive for pedos to simply kill all their victims?
That already seems to be the plan sexual in nature (at least physically, I don’t doubt they get off on the thought of killing too killing) or not at large. That is all of us.
A co-worker’s wife is a forensic scientist with the RCMP. She worked on the Pickton case. She confirmed that the pigs do indeed eat just about everything, but there is one part of the human body that pigs don’t eat – any bone too large to be chewed down into smaller parts easily enough or with sharp edges pigs sometimes just leave alone. Teeth and hair will be eaten but not digested. There wasn’t a lot of forensic evidence she had to work with of the 26 women Robert Pickton was convicted of murdering.
The pig farm became the largest crime scene in Canadian history. Police took 200,000 DNA samples. Heavy equipment was used to sift through 383,000 cubic yards of soil in search of human remains. The cost was nearly $70 million.
Canaduh.
$70 million to shysters and grifters i.e. expert witness when the guy was clearly and absolutely guilty. Taxpayers are the easiest victims to rob and with impunity.
Hmmm…ummm…
Seems more like Canadon’t (have much common sense)…
There are those who can,
There are those who can’t
There are those who canawon’t
Because they canacan’t.
Canadewperfragilisticexpialidocious.
CanaCanaan
Justin Trudeau was a frequent guest at the farm….
Gotta police up those teeth.
Forensics will get you every time…
“I do not recall what you are talking about.”
You said a mouthful there.
Willie Picton? I think that’s the name, had a hog farm in BC and a hooker habit, brought ‘em up from Vancouver to party. The hogs took care of most everything but purses and shoes apparently.
What breed of chickens do you suppose Hardscrable raised?
I think we’d all be a little more thankful if we did some of this ourselves. I enjoyed the read.
Actually less wasteful. Farming and hunting makes you realize an animal died to feed you. There is respect in that. It is why our forefathers are said to have used everything in a slaughtered animal but the moo, oink and cluck.
I will always remember at the end of the movie “City Slickers”, when when the future of the calf was told them…”where do you think that meat under the cellophane in the store comes from?”
That’s the whole basis of Christianity… the innocent dying for the guilty. ‘Muricans are clueless. Beautiful story. Thanks
Innocent dying for the guilty?
Sounds like the USA right now.
More like the LOST/STUPID
Dying because of the guilty…just saying…
Toughest part of the year here. Too many veggies to process, fruit trees are overloaded.
Freezer is full, need another.
Deer are crowding the garden, frisky in the fall, two tags to fill, need another freezer.
Yes, much to be thankful for.
Winter is coming.
“two tags to fill”….ha ha ha
ha, ha is right ’round here. Shoot ’em deer, eat ’em deer whenever. Remember though them deer here also “corn fed crap.” Fucking deer corn. SMDH.
Great story. Thanks.
My wife and I have 17 hens that we use just for eggs. Friends with benefits I call them.
My wife gave them All names, so I know there will be NO eating them, that’s what I’m told
An old saying on the farm goes something like this… Never name something you’re gonna eat.
Every year we do 4H, I always name the pigs and cows…
Usually something like Pork Chop, Ham Solo-slice, Bacon-Boy, or Top Sirloin, Wagu-to-U, Flanks-a-lot, or Future Brisket….
I have a cousin who named his goat, Dinner.
Yea. If they have a name they will not be eaten. That’s why farmers don’t let their kids name food animals. Only horses or milk cows.
People, even kids, name animals they eat all the time. I think it’s a myth for people who weren’t raised around it.
Yessir, otherwise what do you put on the package in the freezer?
Mmmm, Bessie burger.
If a farmer eats a chicken then either the farmer is sick, or the chicken was, here in the Netherlands.
Wait, what?
My mom and dad used to laugh when I asked for corn, they said only pigs and chickens ate it in Holland.
So people don’t eat chicken where you live?
And they will still make fine pots of soup.
So glad to see your byline, it’s been a while! Wish I’d made it up there for your 4th celebrations. Would love to have seen your operation. We’re just starting out on 180 acres. Just know that your writing is much appreciated, as is the wisdom you impart about how you run your farm. What are a few of your favorite books/ sources on building a small beef herd and other meat production?
HSF, do you buy the meat chicks or, do you incubate your own eggs? I guess I’m asking do you have a full circle operation?
I’ve never had meat chickens, just egg layers and, nothing like the volume I’m sure you are working with. Then again, I’m only on 6.5 acres.
I’m still buying meatbird chicks, but from a local guy who specializes in heritage breeds. We hatch our own layers. The problem with the meatbird layers is that they get too big at the wrong time for laying so unless you have an operation that allows for you to winter them over they eat more than they’re worth to carry through until spring for a hatching.
Every year we get a little more self-sustaining, but I don’t know that we’ll ever get there completely. Until the wheels come off completely we’ll make the best use of what the supply chains allow for, as long as we can.
10-4. I’ve been talking more and more with my neighbor of 10 years (a 3rd generation Georgian who knows just about everyone in our area) how important it will be to connect and barter with the farmers and ranchers around here. That is what I’m greatly depending on because my small operation with gardening, beekeeping, and egg-layers will help but, in no way do I have illusions of self-sufficiency.
If I moved in as a neighbor of yours I would be volunteering my time to help you for the learning experience. Until I moved here 10 years ago I was a “city slicker” and never owned a home and property larger than your standard lot in a subdivision. I’ve changed, a lot, and learned, a lot, in the 10 years but, nothing like what you have going on. I applaud you for it as it pays dividends now and, will certainly do so in what is to come. I just hope you have enough family, and friends/neighbors, to protect it all from the golden horde that will inevitably come.
Finally, at 68, I do most of everything I ever did but, I’m paying the price in the way of joint issues, tendinitis, and some other aches and pains that have me wondering how many good years do I have left in me to take care of property and all that goes with it.
The Power of Positive Thinking: A Practical Guide to Mastering the Problems of Everyday Living
I’m going crappie fishing at Lake Fork in November. I’ve realized I have let simple pleasures pass me by. Now I’m just going to be a kid again and go fishing.
Good for you, Tex! Enjoy!
HSF, thank you; I enjoy reading how you have adapted well to this abomination known as modern life. I currently produce only about 20% of our nutritional needs, the chief value of which is to instill gratitude for the 80% that still comes through supply chains and other sources. Since I’m still working I am very happy to trade 100 FRNs for a basket of groceries while they are available. We’re both aware that the 20% must increase and the 80% will decrease as “the wheels fall off”. That is the unstated challenge that most are not aware of. Thank you for bringing it to light for those who are paying attention. Praying God’s blessing on all our efforts.
What heritage breeds get up to 18 lbs? Jersey Giants, or crosses?
I believe it’s a cross between a Bresse and a White Plymouth Rock although technically you can’t call them Bresse if they aren’t raised in France, sort of like champagne. Not that I care what the French think. They do really well on pasture and we put the water out away from their coop during the day so they have to move instead of just sitting around like most meat breeds do.
He’s got some Jersey Giants that are insanely huge but I haven’t tried them yet, maybe next year.
I bought a few Jumbo Cornish Cross chicks at Tractor Supply Company a few years ago for about $3 each. Butchered them at 7 weeks and they were still the size of small turkeys. They never wanted to leave the henhouse but stationed themselves between the water and food cans just a couple of feet away. They put on so much weight so quickly that they couldn’t stand up and had rubbed off all their breast feathers trying to scoot over to eat or drink. Never again. So unnatural. My dogs like the meat, tho.
I raise 50 birds a year and send them out to get slaughtered. I like giving them out as gifts on Christmas.
Nice, I sure wouldn’t give up my gizzards and hearts to the dogs though. That is my favorite part.
Damn right dogs know when the killing starts.
Had a dog that started the killing, seven pheasants the same night. Killer dog.
Thank you, I’m up for same task this weekend.
Now more than ever, and increasingly so, your actions with the farm and your ability to broadcast, become vital.
Perhaps 10 years ago these stories were of a nostalgic, romantic variety. This is still true but in light of obvious planned assault on Food, both in terms of quality/content and access/supply, decentralization is of paramount importance.
Nice read, thank you Hardscrabble!
Great to read about something I’m so ignorant about. I assume the 18 pounder was some sort of chicken-turkey hybrid. Did a rooster rape a turkey or did a tom rape a hen? Maybe it was consensual. At least that’s what he’ll claim in court.
I have a neighbor who told me he didn’t start to slaughter until the first one died of a heart attack, that was his cue. His birds were enormous, but he never let them out into daylight and they ate nothing but grower feed.
Here’s some of my finished product before wrapping and freezing-
Chickens are addictive.
Some layers, Sex Links, are light as a feather but pump out the eggs.
The all porpoise breeds, like Rhode Island Reds are good eating, good layers and great to watch personalities.
Meat boids cannot get out of their own way.
Got a 3 bird Chicken tractor on skids or cross country skids. Twitch them around to clear up a spot. And a 10 bird house, fixed with lights.
It is easy to get rid chickens of so you can get away for the winter.
They breed chickens with porpoises? Like an amphibious waterfowl, or somethin’? Is that what’s meant by aquaculture? Excellent slip of the tongue, Mr. Toad.
I made cones from 5 gallon buckets to put my birds in when I dispatch them. It helps keep them calm through the process and lowers the adrenaline surge. Like you, they are each thanked (the hardest part) and calmed before sending them on their way.
It also eliminates most of the blood splatter while they slip away.
Zero Hedge poster/columnist Hedgeless Horseman said that he uses traffic cones for the same purpose, IIRC.
Before they underwent demise did you ever hear them saying “gobble gobble” – maybe under their breath?
That looks professionally delicious!!! I always enjoy reading your writings and appreciate you sharing your life views.
God Bless You and Your Family!!!
Might have been a capon, they get bigger. If you are not familiar with the term think gelding, or steer, or barrow or wether. If you don’t know what any of those are you probably grew up in a big city, but eunuch should enlightened you.
I love how you seem to have found peace through your work. I love to walk through my garden, pulling weeds and saying hello to the fruit trees and veggies. They are more my friends, as we mutually support each other, than most humans these days.
Thank you for a good read. The subject was apropos to events in my own life.
Your stories sooth the soul like a flowing river. Its – look and sound – has a similarity yet we know it is different. It must be different because it is different water and this is why we seem to learn something new every time you write. Yet their is also a stability in knowing it is the same river. Cheers HSF
Great read, HSF. I can only remember one time that I was around when my Grandmother killed chickens. Just like when my Dad and Uncles would clean the game after a hunt, I watched intently as she went through the process. Watching them process animals gave me a good understanding of the skeletal structure that has enabled me to continue breaking down birds and fish, even today.
I have seen a few programs where they harvest chickens and they use something like a large funnel, putting the bird down, head first until the head comes out the bottom. It keeps the flapping under control and not nearly as messy, as they drain the blood into a bucket.
Great read for an Autumn morning. Thanks, HSF.
I never did chickens. But like many Alaskans, I am an expert at slaughtering fish. Nothing like the first fresh fish of the season.
Sockeye is so good.
The first big runs are Sockeye.
I am grateful folks can raise animals and slaughter/I just could not do it!
I can hunt/eat deer/fish ect. but raising animals would become too damn attached and not be able to go through with the slaughter.
Chickens for eggs/goats for milk/butter will work for me,will buy/trade/barter for meat and feel perhaps that makes mea hypocrite but if it does,so be it.
I’m with you, James. I suppose if we were really needing some meat we could do it. We have a flock of 20 and gave away 10 more after we hatched 20 more last year. We sell the eggs to recoup some feed costs.
Someone said there is a place we can take them to have them processed for us but we haven’t done that either.
My peace and quiet is going outside every morning for at least 30 minutes and reading my Bible and praying while I catch some rays. It’s been unusually warm for September. The forecast for today and the next 3 days is near ninety and for the next week at least mid 80’s.
I must get back to my house chores. I’m thankful I can get around and do stuff now. I plan to ditch the cane in the next week or so.
Nice,glad it all worked out with the docs!
I’ve been thinking about eating pocket gophers. They are so cute when the cat brings to the door and it is still alive , the attachment. I just go ahead and crush its head and ask cat why he did not crunch down.
Gophers for survival food? Laugh yet pocket gophers are much cleaner little animals than chickens. Don’t confuse gophers with moles.
I know Jews are ok with eating grasshoppers, locust and crickets. Hum, WEF, “eat ze bugs”. Edible but watch out for ANYONE that associates with or has associated with the WEF.
On pocket gophers I cannot find any info by Jews whether the gopher is considered clean of unclean. Leviticus mentions some kind of mole and speaks of swarming things on the ground. Of course I’m assuming Jews still consider catfish unclean. How they would even get along with people in the South is a good question as people in the South generally eat catfish. I know those that eat a LOT of catfish.
No reason not to slaughter gophers if hungry. I believe it psychological to reject a gopher especially as part of prepping as in what are we going to eat? I’ve not tried pocket gopher but I’m betting it does not “taste like chicken”.
https://www.instructables.com/How-to-Skin-and-Cook-Gopher/
I’ve ate groundhog and squirrel. Can’t be to much different. Mr. rat might be your friend too.
You might want to try Guinea Pig once… it’s a delicious staple down south of the equator.
Yeah, but they grow a big variety to eat. You can buy them here, but they aren’t as common as the smaller ones. I’ve actually seen people cooking them (in pictures or vid) here in some places, like NYC if I recall, as street food and they are supposedly getting popular.
the farmer rightly likes his knives sharp.
Many more injuries with dull knives than sharp ones.
Another life affirming article Hardsrabble. Thanks.
I’m sure you know of the “Kulaks,” the successful, intelligent, hardworking, smart working, farmers who had several fat cows when many of their neighbor farmers had none or one emaciated bovine.
The (((Bolshies))) demonized Kulaks as being greedy, by resisting the collectivist program which today is called ‘the great reset.’ Off to the Gulags with them.
This old city slicker would come in handy on the perimeter when the hoards arrive. Bring my own tools too. Probably not much use till then though. LOL.
A beautiful article Farmer.
Must have tools to get the job done right!
Thank you for the words. And the reminder. There is a sacredness to the “little things in life” that many of us forget to appreciate; or, perhaps, it’s merely a matter of focus… or gratitude.
I, too, have experienced the presence of silence after the music stops.
The other day I was driving through town and feeling a little agitated. My phone jangled so I shut off the radio to talk and listen. After the call, I absent-mindedly forgot to turn the music back on.
In a while, I began to have an awareness of the soft hum of the tires and the gentle purring of the engine. My windows were down and I felt the breeze on me. It smelled like wet grass and I could see the small beginnings of brilliant colors splashed onto a cerulean sky…. and I experienced joy in a way that surprised me in the moment.
Then, upon reading your words, I was reminded of that gratitude and what David the Psalm-writer may have meant regarding “tender mercies” and “lovingkindnesses” – which is also a little surprising given this article’s title.
Thank you again.
Absent-mindedness is not so bad. The music could rot the brain with subliminal messaging.
I have no idea why we are here and at this stage of the game I no longer worry about discovering the answer. We are here and that’s enough.
I nominate this ^ for wise comment of the day .
Excellent as always. Missed reading your stuff, it has been a while.
Stay at, keep us in your mind, your writing is inspiring.
Great essay. I’m envious. Working on getting though.
HSF, having visited you on your property recently, I can visualize all these places you wrote about. I recall the peacefulness your place has, and how you overcame tyrannical nonsense to get where you are.
Job well done, sir.
HSF, so sorry (and glad) I just missed the festivities. Glad you got a plucker. Question, you say you sever the heads right off. I have old neighbors that insisted on just slicing into the jugular to let it bleed first. Does it make a difference? I’d just rather do what you do and kill them instantly and avoid a suffering animal. The killing is the worst part, chickens, deer, whatever. I don’t trust people who enjoy that part. Nice seeing you the other day!
I’ve done it with an ax on a chopping block, in a cone, just slicing through the neck, and finally the way I do it now. I don’t recommend the ax- the chicken takes off -running around with your head cut off is a truism-so it’s a mess and kind of distressing for anyone who happens to be around. The cones work on small birds, but it keeps them from the final flapping and I kind of think it’s something that helps them bleed out completely. I think the cones came along so you could do multiple chickens at the same time, but I’m in no rush and it’s just one more piece of equipment to keep track of. The baling twine is free, it works great, and when I’m done, I throw it away. I toss the heads into a bucket and at the end of the day I feed them to the pigs who go at them like they were a delicacy. No waste. Even the feathers get dumped into the hedge and they usually wind up as a bird’s nest the next year. The big bloody spot under the maple tree always provides the darkest green grass every spring. Nothing goes to waste.
Beautiful. Thank you, HSF
I was reading an article about those cornish cross mutant birds. They apparently are so fat and lazy that they wouldn’t move out of the sun and waddle ten feet to fresh water and shade, just lay there and died. That’s how the man found some when he came home. I keep hearing about all the jobs that can’t be filled here, people don’t want to work. Maybe these people will lay in the sun and die like those chickens I mentioned.
https://youtu.be/yetr1YDZwz8
That guy is great. Pretend farmer.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mANusCvOl6s
I share a documentary from 1975, how it was done in the old days. The family would hire a slaughter, who would come to the house and do his work. In the end of the docu, what Bratwurst is about, a method of preservation. The meters long sausage goes through the pan directly into a jar. On YouTube, search Die Hausschlachtung – 2. Wursten, Pökeln und Einbraten
Note there is more on that channel.
We will be doing the same in a couple of weeks. We learned from others about 3 years ago. This season, I’m teaching my brother in law. Someone described what we live in now as a technological utopia. I think it’s the opposite. I don’t care how small what I’m doing is, it’s a step back towards the land and living how we are supposed to live.
I have to say that some of the best memories I have of my grandparents involved hog killing time. The whole family turned out to scald, scrape, butcher and make sausage. The very best part was keeping the fire in the smoke house going for the next two weeks. I still can see my grandmother stewing a cauldron of organ meat and heads for hogs head cheese. Those were good days.
Yeah, was one of my earliest memories too, the whole family getting together to butcher hogs.
Very well written, Hardscramble. In a world filled with non stop distractions and stimulation it is refreshing to keep it simple. I have found myself admiring the simple things in life lately. My favorite has been drinking my coffee and watching the leaves dance in the wind.
well, thanks for sharing…
When I slaughter I thank Him for His provision. The world would be a much better place if more people had this connection to their food that you have good Sir. Still a big fan of your writing.
Thank you for this story