Killing Off Roos on the Homestead

Back in late March when we bought our chicks, we bought straight runs. We knew we'd get some roosters.. We were actually praying for one of each type. Extra roos would not go to waste. They'd just go to freezer camp or the stock pot for us. We got a fifty/fifty split. I guess this was fair, but we were hoping more for a 60/40 split, hens to roosters. Well, I'm finally getting around to it.

Yeah, I know we're late in butchering. It should have happened three or four months ago. We were busy with other projects like the new coops and runs. We weren't going to use fryers for the freezer, but stew them in a stock pot. There wasn't any rush for the slaughter. We have plenty of young chickens in our freezer already, thanks to a Zaycon order earlier in the year. Next year, the plan is to harvest all our own chickens.

Of the sixteen birds we had (12 new and 4 old flock). We've lost a few over the past month due to free ranging attrition and we are down to ten. Of the ten, six are roosters. In this harvest, I'm working smarter by killing off the rooster two at a time. They are no longer tender young birds so the delay won't hurt them. It's not only the energy it take to catch, slaughter, and butcher the chickens but the processing time. The roosters has to be cooked, deboned, and then canned. The bone broth needs to be chilled, schmaltz removed (chicken fat), and then made into soups, or canned as straight broth. This takes time and space. We only have one small refrigerator. I can't justify the cost and energy use for heavy use of a second one for a few months out of a year. Before my stroke, it was nothing to butcher ten birds a day, but now, two is my limit. I plan on killing two this week and two next week. Even working within the 30 minute killing to chilling time frame for each bird. The rest tales me hours.

Mel, God love her, is tenderhearted. She can't kill our animals. Canning and cooking has never been her thing. That's okay, because it is mine. So it's left for me to handle. We both grew up in privileged, upper middle class, lower high class income households, but what we did during that time that's where the similarities differ.

My family was heavy into family activities. While we had the money for servants and any food we wanted; we camped, hunted, fished, and cooked for ourselves too. My parents wanted us to have a well round childhoods. We foraged in the woods. We preserved items we got from u-pick farms and a host of other things. My dad had two rules. You kill it; you clean it, and you eat what you kill. You don't kill for sport. Of course, it was a fun/sporting activity too. When you harvest fruits and vegetables you are also killing them so the rules still applied. Not that we NEEDED to do all of this to survive like some people, but it taught us life long survival skills. It also taught us to respect life no matter what form it took. It is also where I developed my death is the absence of learning and no education is lost principles.

For Mel, homesteading and self sufficiency was an "it would be nice" thing. But she's willing to learn. For me, I've been practicing it for fifty years thanks to my upbringing. So, butchering rabbits and chickens is a no brainer. I've got my two (21 and 23 qt) canners on the stove for boiling water. As soon as they come up to a boil, I'll set them on simmer until Mel carries them out to the big tub to help loosen the feathers on the birds. After they come to a boil, I'll run up to the store for a bag of ice for the cooler. I've already filled the cooler half way full of water and dissolved a cup of salt in it. This will help draw the blood and any impurities out of the chicken after it's gutted and before I cook them. I usually do this for two hours. It'll give me a chance to set up my cooking station.

I'll knock a rooster in the head, so it'll lay still for me to chop off its head. I'll let it thrash around in a 5-gallon bucket. Then, I'll carry it to the tub of hot water. A minute or two dunking and it's off to the plucking table. This new way of harvesting chickens for me and is a far cry from the cone method I used to use. But that method takes two hands. I have a towel on my work table so the chicken does not slide around. I'll give it whole area a quick rinse with the garden hose before I start gutting the bird. Since I'm only doing two birds a bowls will suffice for keep and discard piles. I'll rough chop the chicken into quarters so they'll fit in my stock pot easier and drop them into the ice bath. Then it's on to the next one.

I wanted to guy one of those turkey frying set ups before I harvested these birds, but all the local stores have been out of stock. My bad luck so it's carrying hot pots of water (not me but Mel). I figure they'll be back in stock for Thanksgiving.  That's okay, I'll have it for the next cycle of chickens next year. Not to mention large quantities of soups/chili/stew and tomatoes for canning.

That's it for this week.

Y'all have a blessed day.

Ding, Dong the Rooster's Dead

After they got into my garden again. The two male roosters (Dinner 1) is dead finally. I came home from one of those have to go into town trips and found the two roosters lazily scratching up my garden bed. Enough was enough! Even with the gate partially closed, I'll admit to fault on this one, they got in and feasted on the newly sprouted corn and cucumbers. What they didn't eat, they rolled on. This made the fourth time I've tried to grow these.

Of course, the hens followed them into the garden also. I couldn't kill the hens because they are our layers, and we use and sell the eggs. They were following the bad boy roosters. No, Whitie wasn't involved. He may have been before we got home, but he wasn't in the garden when I saw them.

Whitie and the hens

I've been threatening to kill the spare roosters since I've gotten here. So now I have. They had almost totally defeathered a couple of hen on their backs because they were so rough with them. I know from experience that a roughly handled hen will stop laying so something had to be done. Mel had put both roosters in an  empty rabbit cage for me after she fed the rabbits this morning. I later went out to kill them.Killing a rooster with only one hand is a challenge. The first one put up a devil of a fight. He caught me on the back of the hand with his spur. The second rooster flew the cage literally while I was breaking the neck of the first.

Herbie

After the first one was going through his death throes, I proceeded to catch the second one. I caught him by the tail feathers. I held him upside down and hung on for dear life. The over a year old rooster squawked up a blue streak and flapped his wings like mad. All the ruckus brought Whitie running to see what was happening to one of his flock. It also brought Herbie, the dog. Being a terrier, he got excited and tried to nip at the rooster's head. Of course, Whitie didn't see me as a threat to his brother, I'm bigger. Whitie started ruffling his feathers and a pecking at the snapping dog.

Herbie was so excited by this new game that he ignored the pecking rooster. I'm holding this bird which is trying to get loose and beating me with his wings, and try to position my body between the yapping Herbie and Whitie. Mel, who was inside, came running out to see what the commotion was. Mel is a tender-hearted soul which is why these birds survived so long. She'd raised them from eggs, played and cared for them daily until  today. I had to kill, pluck, and butcher them. She did hang the dead rooster by its feet in the fence.

I put the bird into the rabbit hutch, broke, and cut his neck. Blood was flowing freely from the cuts. I partially closed the hutch door to let him die in peace. I gathered the eggs (another 17 of them) from the last two days and went into the house. I had to put the eggs into the refrigerator and I badly needed a drink. Although cooler after the rain storms the last two days, it's still in the low 80s.

The pot of water was ready so I went outside to deal with the second stage of butchering chickens (beheading and plucking). I went to the rabbit hutch to hang the second rooster and found it empty. We had another blasted zombie rooster on the loose again. (Watch here for the first one) Darn!!!! I broke the news to Mel as she carried the vanning pot full of hot water to the plucking station, a table on the deck off the back patio.

"You're kidding me?" She responded.

I shook my head. I broke its neck. I know and heard it snap. The head was at a cockeyed, and very unnatural angle when I put him in the hutch. But low and be hold, there he was out in the yard with the other chickens. His head still had a strange tilt, but he was up and walking around. Chock up one for the rooster. He gets to live for another day.

The first rooster was still hanging upside down on the fence. I laid him on a board after searching fruitlessly for the hatchet Mel swore was in the barn. I took my knife to behead the chicken. I managed to cut all but the last two inches of skin. Did I mention the bird was over a year old? Really tough skin. Mel had to cut the rest of the head off. She brought the dead bird to me. I half expected in to start flapping its wings again, but it didn't. I dunked him into the hot water and then began plucking the feathers. It took several dunkings  to release all the feathers. By this time, rigor mortise had set in. The legs wouldn't go into the pot. I picked the rooster up by its headless neck and tried to soak the legs that way. No luck. The water just wasn't deep enough. I started to think some unkind words as I put the chicken down and went inside to get another knife. I cut off the feet and dunked the legs into the water.

Cuddles

By this time I'm pretty exhausted. It's been over five years since I've done this and I had two hands. I picked up the bird and placed it into the kitchen sink. I decided that when we build the new homestead, I'm putting in a butchering station with running water outside. All this climbing up and down slick, wooden steps is for the birds. Literally! Cuddles can do it faster  and much safer than I can.

I put Dinner 1, now naked, into the sink and ran cold water over the carcass. I sharpened my Ulu knife knowing this job was going to be a work out. I wasn't proved wrong. I was practically using full downward force to even put a slice into the skin. After 30 minutes I managed to gut him and get him ready for his salty ice bath It's a job in a half trying to gut a chicken with your only functioning hand up inside the bird. I had to use the inside edge of the sink to have enough force to pull the innards out. In the process I broke the liver into three pieces. That's okay, it, the gizzard and heart are destined for the dogs anyhow. I can't eat organ meats because of the higher cholesterol count and Mel doesn't like them. Just as soon as I get enough of them for dog food.

I've told Mel when I get ready to kill the zombie rooster aka Dinner 2, I'm going to buy a pair of lopper for the head and feet before I start to butcher him. I'm not going to take her word for it that she has them. She thought I was talking about standard hedge clippers. All of my butchering equip will be sharpened by the grinder before the fact not after. Those little knife sharpeners just doesn't put a sharp enough edge on them. They do okay for kitchen duty but not butchering.

I may be nice, but I'm practical too. The right tool for the right job. This ain't my first time as a butcher. If an animal is causing problem or is born for a purpose, it needs to fulfill the need. Whether it is a chicken or a cute bunny. Everything on our homestead has to have a purpose even me. If I have to be the Grim Reaper, then so be it. I've already put Mel on notice. After today, she will help with the processing of any future chickens or any other animal bred for meat. I'm not going to do it all by myself again. It's not pain or guilt I feel, but the need to make Mel into a homesteader. It's time to accept the fact that I: 1) am not physically able, and 2) I'm not always going to be available to be the Grand Executioner. She must gain the basic understanding of this skill.

Well, that's my adventure at the Cockeyed Homestead for this week Y'all be blessed.