A very early morning picture of how chicken processing day begins. Luke and I packed all the chickens from the back pasture into crates to take to the other farm. We have to start really early in the dark before the chickens get restless to get up for the day.
Then we headed to the other farm and butchered and dressed out our last batch of meat hens and cull roosters to last us the winter. It’s a family affair with my brother and our son on the cones, dad on the scalder and plucker, mom, Kelsey, uncle Jeff and I on dressing and chilling. I had gotten the chilling tank and the scalding tank ready last evening. And tomorrow after they chill for 24 hours, my husband and I will haul them from the chill tanks to bag up. Then we freeze them.
As we hauled back into the house after we were all done, I could have cried. We had lost power while we were at the other farm.
No power meant no shower.
Because nothing, and I mean NOTHING, feels as good as a hot shower after a wet, windy chicken processing day.
But of course, I didn’t cry. I’m chicken rich, after all. The outage didn’t last long and I remind myself my ancestors certainly didn’t have access to the luxury of a hot shower.
(But I bet if they could have -they would have !)
Today on Thanksgiving Monday, I’m thankful for the skills to feed my family, land to do it on, and family to do it with. Amen.
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