One bird gave me a really hard time when I tried extracting the innards. I kept trying and trying, but the opening felt too small; something was wrong.
When I finally got out the innards, yes, something was wrong: a fully formed egg was inside the body cavity. I was not expecting that!
(Maybe the egg isn't quite from "beyond the grave," since the hen will go into the pot, not a tomb, but it has a dramatic sound anyway.)
So out of 26 birds processed, three birds were currently in production. That's not a terribly efficient way to run a farm, and I am happy to put those birds in the freezer.
The chickens averaged about two pounds less than the laying hens, coming in in the mid two pound range (except for the smallest, that weighed 1 pound, 2 ounces dressed out: that one went in the stock pot, since there was pretty much no meat on the poor thing).
I had pulled the yellow fat off the internal organs of the fattest birds. I figured I should at least try to render the fat, and it went incredibly quickly. Within about 10 minutes, I had well over a quart of bright yellow rendered fat. (The cracklings were pretty gross, so I gave those to the pigs. I don't think regular pork cracklings are very good plain, either, but they do help refried beans taste yummy.) Below you can see the difference between the rendered pork fat and the yellow rendered chicken fat.
I made stock with the necks and smallest bird, put the feet and livers in the freezer for future processing, and was happy to be done with this project.
Phil sealed up the door to the bedroom: it doesn't close quite all the way, and the 1/8" gap all the way around lets in a lot of cold air. He had sealed it last year, but one son (who shall remain nameless) picked it all off the door sometime this summer.
Phil also tried to clear some of the lower pasture. The brambles looked so easy to take out, so he went down with machete and scythe.
They weren't easy to take out. They resisted, and he opted against lugging the chainsaw down the hill.
Just as well, since he had to dig a big hole. Then he went up to town to have dinner with one of our pastors: the one hour that he wasn't actively working today was spent on a sober task. But he had that hour: something he doesn't have every day. (And if Chloe had died while he was at dinner: what would I have done? Somehow tried to get her outside, I think, and then just hoped that no wild animal got her in the night? God was very gracious.)
While we were processing the birds, I had a striking realization: we could make it here. For the last month, we've been waiting to hear from the pig farmer about whether the way is open for us to purchase it. We continue not to hear anything, but, for the first time today, I realized I could be content either way. Either way will be a good option; either way, we'll have an adventure and gain experience. It was the first time either option actually looked appealing to me: for the last six weeks, my main hope has been to move to the pig farm. Only that would make life seem manageable. But no more. Whether we stay or go, it'll be great!
I have been experimenting with one of the final frontiers of the Nourishing Traditions cookbook. I already do grass-fed meat and organic poultry, top quality eggs and raw milk. I take my cod liver oil and make bone broths. I never buy salad dressing, ferment kefir, cook with only coconut oil, butter, or lard (though I use olive oil, too, in lower heat applications), and soak nuts before eating.
But lacto-fermented vegetables have eluded me, until now.
For my fifth year anniversary at my company, I requested a sauerkraut crock. I used the amazing thing one time, and didn't fully understand how I was supposed to store it. The top grew moldy (I'm ashamed to say, probably after a few months), and I threw it all away and never tried again.
Right now, though, I have fermenting in my house some gingered carrots, some kimchi, and some beet kvass, a fermented drink that has good digestive enzymes, or so I'm told. (Below: kefir from our milk, beet kvass, and kimchi, with the carrots in front: so pretty!)
I've been taking a spoonful of a (store bought) fermented vegetable with every meal, and I will be curious to see if I feel dramatically better. Or even a little better. Better digestion never hurt anyone, I suppose.
On Friday, Phil shot the last bird. We had hoped it would be happy just to eat bugs, but when I entered the barn first thing to find it eating the cat food, we knew it had to go.
Rather than fire up the scald water for a single bird, Phil plucked it by hand (excluding the tiny wings: I cut those off and fed them to the pigs). He was surprised by how not difficult the project was: to do only one to three birds, he figured it would be very doable to pluck, so long as the plucking commenced right after killing.
We had lent out the chainsaw, and Phil spent some time fixing it; he also spent several hours clearing along the creek on the neighbor's land, preparing to get fencing put up for grazing next year. He was pleased with the progress he made with chainsaw, and tractor to push the brush out of the way.
I think he's still figuring out the tractor's dimensions; he backed into a tree and tore one of the hydraulic hoses. I think that happened right before dark, and he intended to drive up to Tractor Supply to get a replacement, but by the time he had researched this new purchase, he wouldn't be able to get there before closing.
I've shelled all the peanuts we grew this year. The ones that weren't too shrunken filled a quart-sized jar. Yay!
Along where the chicken pen went, we have a new plant growing up: something in their feed, since the patches of new growth are precisely where the feeder has been, at about 10 foot intervals.
My garden is fairly dormant, but the daikons, mustard greens, kale, turnips, and some radishes came up well before the cold days came upon us.
All the "empty" beds hold garlic, well mulched with hay and waiting for the spring.
Wowzie! You guys have been busy!
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