Unpleasant initiation

You've all read about our foray into backyard chicken keeping, and all the fun we've had in getting the chicks, building the coop and watching them grow. In fact, last week we were rewarded with the first eggs. What a thrill to see those perfect, round brown eggs! And of course, they taste amazing. Anjalee and I enjoyed our first home-grown scrambled eggs the other morning.

But when I got going on this project, I understood that it wouldn't all be easy, and that chickens die for all kinds of reasons. I thought it might be hard to not get attached to them, but it turns out they aren't as cuddly as I expected. And I also knew we might get a rooster or have a hen get old and unproductive at some point, requiring us to butcher. Well, we did get a rooster. Two of them, in fact, and the first one was lucky enough to get a new home. However, the second was not. I had a hard time accepting this because he was a Golden Laced Wyandotte, a beautiful breed that I searched high and low for, and the ONE bird I most wanted to be female.

A couple weeks ago he let out his first crow, and we knew we had to do something. Roosters aren't allowed in town, and we want to keep a good relationship with our neighbors. So yesterday Michael decided it was time to butcher the rooster. I was a little worried about feeling bad for killing him, and I chose to hold him rather than cut his throat. Some friends of our came over to watch, which I found to be very reassuring, though I don't know why. Fortunately, once we got underway, you focus on the task at hand, and I didn't feel guilty at all. It was quick and humane, and felt like times in the past when I've helped process other people's chickens.

It wasn't until I saw the bird in the slow cooker that I felt a little too close to my food for comfort. But it would have been disrespectful to be anything but grateful for the life and nourishment that rooster gave, and I am more ashamed to feel so disconnected from the truth about where our food comes from.

Part of living with livestock is having an intimate relationship with them, one that is interdependent and complex. We need each other, and it is difficult to spend so much time caring for something only to cause it's demise. The blessing in raising and butchering animals is that you take responsibility for an animal's death and therefore have a greater respect for the sacrifices made to feed us. Even though I've seen this play out many times before growing up, it's a lesson that never ceases to be powerful and humbling.