I have this friend who raises chickens in her backyard. Chickens in your backyard seem to be a thing now. It's kind of a movement, isn't it?
But what happens when they get too old to lay eggs?
Mary asked me if I would take her old hens. I said that I would just eat them, and she said that was fine. Not just fine, actually, but she was grateful. She offered me gifts. So, naturally, I accepted. She came over this morning with three old hens in some beat up crates and boxes. Her two little boys were with her, and I got the impression they didn't know about the chickens' fate.
Little Z, however, was well informed. After they left, she wanted to accompany me to "The Killing Tree" where we hang them upside down and decapitate them. I asked her several times if she was sure that she wanted to see this, and she was. She stood a few feet back while I did the deed. The first chicken was very quick and smooth. She was standing behind me, so I couldn't see her expression. I explained why the chicken's legs were still moving, even though it had no head.
I turned around and she looked so shocked! I've never seen anyone's mouth hanging open, for real, in shock.
"Are you surprised?" I asked her.
"What was surprising about that?"
"You cut its head off!"
"How did you think I would do it?"
"I thought you would burn it with fire."
My daughter thinks I set live chickens on fire!
I do not set live chickens on fire.
And here is an unrelated picture of Mrs. Turkey and some of her poults:
She looks suspicious of me. She may have good reason.