Today around 1:00 Sprinkles started barking. We were inside eating lunch. She barked enough that we knew it was something real, not just the dog barking at the wind. We looked outside to see something you don’t see every day. A wagon train!
There were 18-20 wagons and many saddled horses. All sizes, colors and breeds. I managed to get a few pictures.
Prestegard Road has changed. Last wednesday they came through and put up signs saying “Fresh Oil”. The trucks went up and down the road spreading a layer of tar and topping it with a layer of gravel. Our road is now paved and will no longer be a gravel road. It’s probably not really that important. I’m sure that at one time it was a dirt road. I don’t know when the road got gravel.
About 7 years ago at an antique shop in town we were looking at a plat map from 1915. Prestegard road was on that map. It wasn’t named, however it was on the map and appeared to follow the same path it does now. Not that much has changed in 90 years. A couple of houses have gone up, a few have come down too. The names on the deeds have changed a few times.
The cars will probably go a little faster, kicking up up less dust as they go by. Hopefully not so fast that their drivers don’t wave.
Today is the day. We have 13 chickens, two of them roosters. I can’t buy chicken at the grocery store when I have a yard full that need feeding. The oldest rooster, named “Mister”, has gotten kinda mean and sometimes attacks people. Actually I’m not sure if it’s an attack or an attempt at mounting. But either way it’s time for him to go. The kids have even stated that they want to eat him because he is so mean and they are afraid of him.
I looked on the Internet and found some good directions for butchering. I read them, go outside, get out my ax, get the rooster. It takes a few minutes to work up the courage My stomach feels kinda icky and I am pale. I put him on the block, grab my ax, and out of fear that I would hit my hand I miss! Off he goes. A hatchet would be easier than a full size axe. I go back in the house and grab a kitchen knife, catch him and try again. It’s not easy to cut a chicken’s head off with a kitchen knife but I do it. It was horrible.
I do the plucking, cleaning and bring the chicken in the house. After washing in the pot it goes. When you do this you realise that the process of butchering changes the bird from “a chicken” to just “chicken”. I have gotten him in the pot and ready to go in the oven when the kids get home from school. I am still somewhat out of sorts from the whole thing. The first thing Jaimy says as she walks in the door, “What’s for supper?”
“Chicken” I answer.
Instantly “Who?”
“Chicken”. I did not want to talk about it. It was not pleasant, actually, it was horrible. I’m sure that the next time will be easier.
A couple of hours later we are eating the toughest meat I have ever had in my life. I now know where the expression “He’s a tough old bird” comes from.
Next morning we are in our regular routine. When we go out for the girls to get the bus I feed and let out the chickens. Jaimy is standing there when the chickens come out and she asks “Where’s Mister?”
“He’s gone”.
Her lip comes out, her eyes well up with tears, “Your mean… I’m never eating your chicken again.”
After school the first thing she says to Laura is “Daddy cooked Mister, I’m never eating his chicken again. I was starting to like him”
I used the left over meat to make a pot of soup, every one enjoyed it. Mister was not talked about at all.
Naming chickens is a bad idea.
Hopefully it will go better with our other chickens. They have names like, “Pot Pie”, “Stew”, “Barbeque”, “White Meat” and “Dark Meat”. Any chickens we get after this won’t have a name.