So, we did plan on eating some of the chickens- especially the roosters, since they don't lay eggs. We kept humming and hawing over which one to slaughter for the first time. We were only going to slaughter one, to figure it all out. Yesterday, one of the chickens- a female- seemed to have a broken leg. We talked it over and decided to do it tonight. One of them being hurt decided for us which one to go.
So, the plan was this: BAH would kill the chicken, then run away and cry while I cleaned it. As it happened, there was no crying involved. Without going into gory details, I can say that we clearly didn't know what we were doing, but that chicken still had a much better life and death with us than it ever could have had on a factory farm.
So, there you have it. It's in the fridge- tomorrow's dinner. It looks much fresher than anything you would get at a grocery store, of course.
The whole thing wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I always felt before that I shouldn't eat anything unless I could kill it myself, and though BAH did the deed, I think I could.
I was going to post a picture of it ready to cook, but I didn't want to offend any vegetarian readers.
I feel like such a farm lady, having butchered a chicken outside and now it's setting in my refrigerator. How strange it all is. A thirteen year old version of me would be so repulsed!