A Time to Kill

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  Ecclesiastes 3:1-3 KJV

Last year we let a few broody hens sit on some eggs and they ended up hatching out some chickens.  After they got big enough where we (thought we) could tell the pullets from the cockerels, we butchered the cockerels and put the hens out on the pasture with the others.  There was a problem with this plan.  We misjudged.  Two of the birds we thought were pullets were actually cockerels.  

This miscalculation was brought to our attention rather quickly.  With four other roosters on the flock, the addition of two more caused quite a ruckus.  A pecking order had to be worked out.  It's a vicious undertaking, to be sure, with fights and blood and intimidation.  Sometimes the roosters will kill one another.  Other times the victor rules and the defeated skulks around on the margins, trying to get food where he can and trying to keep from getting beat up by the bigger, more dominant roosters.

What will also happen is, well, we'll call it the "birds and the bees."  Roosters will seek out and breed hens in the flock.  The poor hens fall prey to this.  Lots of squawking.  Lots of feathers flying.  Two of them will be breeding and the rival rooster will appear and attack the romancing rooster in the middle of mating.  Shrill cries ring out across the barnyard.  Frightened, disheveled hens scurry off to find peace.

Tricia finally looked at me and said, "Kyle, it's time we help the hens.  Let's butcher those two white roosters that keep everything stirred up."  I agreed.  Saturday afternoon was the appointed time.  We walked to the barnyard and caught the raucous, romancing roosters.  We each carried a rooster to the chicken tractor from the back to the yard.  Tricia called it the "long walk."  The roosters did not know what was in store.  (Warning for the squeamish)

We tied them from twine in a tree and slit their throats, holding them over a bucket to catch the blood.  In a short time, their hearts pumped out the blood.

With one final flop of the wings, the roosters kicked the bucket, literally and figuratively.  Time of death: 1:52 pm.

We set the two formerly amorous birds aside while we waited for the water temperature in the scalder to reach 145 degrees.

Dishwashing liquid was added to the water and when it was 145 degrees (scalding), I began to dunk the birds beneath the water for about 2 minutes.  Up, down, up, down.  When you can pull on a long wing feather and a tail feather and they pull out easily, your bird is ready for plucking.  It's important that you monitor the temperature (hence the thermometer).  If the water is cooler than 145, the feathers won't come off in the plucker.  If the water is hotter than 145, you'll cook the birds.  We learned early on the hard way when we first started doing this years ago.

We toss one of our feathered friends in the plucker and spray with water as we turn on the plucker and the bird spins.  Soon, all of the feathers are gone.  It's an efficient process, much easier by hand, except it's a lot of mess and a lot of equipment to get out for only two birds.

Here is one of the roosters, devoid of feathers.  Minus all the feathers, the roosters are kind of skinny.  No where near the size of the Cornish Cross meat birds that we raise each spring for butcher.

The cavities are then opened and the birds are eviscerated.

Here is one of the roosters...  We're going to use the feet this year for the first time to make broth.

And here is the other.

Gizzards, livers, and hearts are lined up waiting for cleaning and packing up for freezing.

We cut up the roosters into pieces and put in bags for freezing.

With cold weather coming this week, Tricia is planning on making a big chicken and sausage gumbo.  Nothing like a good gumbo to warm you up on a very cold day.  One final note before I sign off tonight:  After these two roosters are now off the flock, you'd be surprised at how calm things are out at the barn.  There is no more shrieking, fighting, or violent breeding.  No more fearful hens running for their lives.  There is peace in the valley.