Butchering weekend

I'm getting ready to butcher eight chickens this AM.

It's funny the reactions I've gotten this week - everything from "OMG! You'd KILL an animal??" to "You're not going to kill ALL the roosters, are you? We like to hear them crow!"

I've taken pictures of them from the first day as baby chicks, through putting them in the chicken tractors. We've fed them everything from scraps to laying mash, getting them as plump as can be. Ten hens and two roosters we will keep, for eggs - that should be starting soon! - and more chickens come spring.

I like the Barred Rock variety for heaviness and color, and the big brown eggs. Soon we'll see how their flesh is for taste, and how well they winter over.

I don't look forward to it, to be honest. It is a LOT of work. But knowing exactly what went INTO these chickens, and filling the freezer with their meat, is satisfying. Knowing that this three day weekend will end with a future for the winter is comforting.

Since Mike finally got approved for his Social Security, we are waiting for the BIG check to come in, as well as the monthly payments. This will pay off things as well as pay for the things we need to get to establish our farm. I spend time every week on my Dexter friends' websites, as well as on a horse website out of Iowa. 9 hours away is not a far distance here, not when everything is so spread out. Cows. Horses. Thinking about everything I'll want and need, to try to become as self-sufficient as possible.

Every week my friends from back East email me, or more people try to sign on to my Facebook page. Some are hurting pretty badly, some are cruising along, and some are just nosy as hell and trying to find out WHAT in the world I'm doing. The latter still don't get that I am happy here, that I moved here to be happy, to stop indulging in THEM and to start indulging in ME. Turns out this week that even my own son thinks I'm crazy and need mental help. People who thought that they knew me were no different - they knew me not at all.

People just can't seem to associate the country life with me. Everyone seems to think that I LIKED being a part of who and what they were; LIKED socializing, LIKED controlling, LIKED being in charge of things, LIKED directing a community's thoughts and emotions and feelings. They can't understand why I would ever move to a place where there are so few people, where there is 'so little to do', where I'm not going out to party and eat and control others every night. Ummmm, sushi, lowcountry boil, oysters, fried this and spiced that, everything processed and handy, quick and simple. Good god, why grow it yourself when the stores are full of it? Why hunt or slaughter when everything is so available and so easy to obtain? Why gather up light and fluffy chicken down off of birds when you can buy the nice spun plastic filler for your quilt?

"Begin as you mean to go on". That's always been one of my mottoes. If you start out to do a thing, you have to do it all the way, not in little pieces parts, half-assed. I always put my heart into whatever I did, even telling myself little stories of encouragement to keep myself going while I did it. Now I'm going to put my heart into this, do things the "right" way.. What is so hard to grasp?

I still love my friends and love to hear from them - but what they are and what I am has always been different. Sure, some try to tell me that what I'm doing is what they want to do too - someday. But for most of them, "someday" will never come. They are too afraid of what their families might say, too afraid that people will criticize them, too afraid that - in their heart of hearts - they couldn't stand to be away from the bright lights and excitement of their current lives. They are too afraid that they wouldn't be able to butcher enough food for the winter, raise enough food in their garden, milk a cow, steer a bull for later butchering, chop the heads off of chickens they've fed for four months, gather enough wood to keep them warm; that they would starve or freeze or die or - be without all of the daily excitement they daily strive for. They will never have the courage to leave that life, no matter how much they dream about it, want it, hope for it. They will never even lay the groundwork for it. The minute one of their children or friends says, "Are you CRAZY??" they'll back down. So they live vicariously through me - and I let them.

Time to get dressed and get to work.