Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Life is better in a room full of chicks

Ever since I bought chickens I've been a poultry proselytizer. Anyone that will sit still long enough will eventually hear me evangelize about fresh eggs and bird poop: two wonderful benefits off chicken ownership.

The problem comes when I start talking about a chicken's third asset: meat.

Why is it so wrenching, so cruel and crazy, that after one of my dear hens stops laying that we might extend their usefulness in a more brothy consistency?

My mother-in-law thinks it's mean, that they're like pets and that when the time comes I won't be able to slaughter them. She might be right, but I see chickens the same way I see horses, cows, goats, sheep, rabbits and all other agricultural animals: When they can't do their farm job anymore, it's time to help them go back to the earth to make room for animals that can.

That's not so bad, is it?


The Maiden Metallurgist said...

My dad grew up on a farm and always tells about how he had to kill his pet pig that he'd raised from a baby. I think it's goot to know where your food comes from and these chickens, after all, will be good food. Good for you.

Olivia said...

I'm sure if you get used to keeping them it's not too hard to eat them. For me it would be, since I only had one Silky long term, and for a short time she was joined by one of the double-yolk egg laying pooping sleeping types. Silky was definitely the pet. Cammie never formed a bond with us, in fact she always ran away. So if you have a yard full of those, then farms ahoy!