a different attitude about killing roosters.
There was a lot of crowing outside this morning and now there is only one rooster voice to be heard. Jim is still outside and I am in here hiding out. If we had shades they'd be drawn; instead we just agreed that I wouldn't look out the window. The view might leave something to be desired.
I am relieved not to hear all that crowing and relieved that those roosters will be in the freezer (or oven) this afternoon instead of beating up the remaining elderly white laying hen, fighting with each other, and tearing up the gardens. Jim and I have been wavering for a month over this. To kill them or not to kill them? Was he capable of doing the deed? Was I capable of being an accessory to doing the deed (if only by complicity). The answer seems to be a resounding, "Yes!" The final straw for both of us was yesterday. We'd gone to Brattleboro, Vermont for the day, to pick apples at Scott Farm and to shop at the Brattleboro Food Co-op and Dottie's Discount Foods. Returning home we were greeted in the driveway by the chickens along with the gang of rooster thugs. The first thing we noticed was that the white hen was beaten up, her neck almost exposed by them tearing her feathers off, probably while trying to kill her like they did our other white hen who was frail anyway.
Now we should have some peace in the yard. I'm sure the chickens are relieved too. For them with all those roosters around it's been like a poultry version of living in a police state out there in the yard, compete with beatings, rape, and murder. I'm sure the roosters thought it was fine. Life was good for them but now it's over. Lots of food for thought here along with the food for the table.
