Yesterday was chicken butchering day. Forty-two birds went from pasture to freezer.
And, no, I didn't take any pictures. It was waaaay too gory. Thirteen hours of blood, guts, and feathers.
I don't even like to do anything fun for thirteen hours straight...
It would have gone faster if we'd gotten all the helpers we were expecting. But what did we expect?
I will say that the crew who did show up qualify for sainthood. Anyone who can stand and pluck chickens for thirteen hours should be canonized on the spot.
Our front yard looks like there was some kind of cosmic pillow fight.
I have a blister on my thumb and an ache in my back.
But there are several happy families who have chickens in the freezer right now, and that makes me happy.
And damn it! That chicken tag just got more action.
Must. Knit. Faster.