JUNE AND JULY
June and July have been busy and I never had a chance to finish the above post the way I wanted to. Soon after those experiences, we lost some chickens to a raccoon one night. It pulled back some chicken wire and got into the coop. All our efforts to feed and care for them seemed a bit meaningless when you find chicken heads scattered about.
A few weeks later we butchered the remaining meat chickens on the farm because we only had twenty-five and we were looking for the experience of processing our own animals. A week prior Molly spent a day with Ry and his family butchering 100 chickens at another farm to help prepare for our own processing day since it involves some specialized equipment and skills.
Ry volunteered to be the “the start” of the process. He would take two chickens at a time and hang them upside down for a few minutes so that the blood rushed into their heads. He then would put them into poultry cones mounted on a stand, pull through their necks, and slice their throats. A peaceful thanks from Ry and swift handling make this the most humane way to take a chicken’s life. The chicken would then go to Andrea (Ry’s Mom) and Beckett to dip into a scalding pot of water set over a propane burner for twenty seconds. This step helps release the feathers from the skin in preparation for the “plucker’. Brett had the glamorous job of running said plucker; a table-top machine that Ry and Brett built in the days leading up to processing. The fine feather removal was a perfect job for Molly’s detail-oriented mother, Lynn. This is the point that all feathers left are removed so that you have a clean bird. Finally, the chicken headed to Molly (and sometimes Andrea) for eviscerating. This is the tricky last step that involves safely removing the chicken’s organs without cutting into parts containing any waste, not unlike the game “Operation”. The chicken then heads into an ice bath, is bagged, and placed in the freezer.
It seemed death had a way of presenting itself a bit more on the farm. I thought there was a greater disconnect between those with a barnyard and those without. I saw the dead lambs thrown onto the compost pile, I saw a baby deer get crushed, and then I helped pluck and process the chickens we had raised together. These made me think I had some angle on death that former city dweller Brett did not.
Then I attended a memorial for an old friend’s father. The thought of my peer, who had now lost both of his parents, made me reflect a little more about mortality and how it fits into all of our lives. Ultimately, I found I couldn’t really hang my hat on any profound statement that made any sense of it. Although I may feel closer to death at the farm whether it be for our sustenance, another animal’s, or simply by accident, I’m not. My friend experienced the loss of both his parents before the age of 40.
“I was as hollow and empty as the spaces between stars.”
- Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye
Every Monday when we lived in Chicago, I heard or read about the weekend totals of shootings and death all around me, and a few of those losses were much closer to me than any news headline. Death still seems abstract to me, a foreign entity that has taken a friend, a student, an aunt, and others around me. I don’t know it well, yet my intrigue toward it and fear of it was made evident this summer. I doubt that awareness, acceptance, or fearlessness really matters in the face of death. It can consume too much of you if you give it too much airtime. Life affirmations or “living in the present” sentiments always turn my stomach. Maybe they shouldn’t, as the happiest times in my life have probably been those moments. Though I feel that as soon as you begin to verbalize, quantify, or qualify that moment, it detracts from its verve. And yet here I am, trying to write about something I know very little about, want to know less, but guaranteed to learn more. Philip Marlowe is right, “To say goodbye is to die a little.”
Even though I have been a meat-eater my whole life, was raised by a father who hunted and provided deer meat to his children, and above all, value the nutrition that animal protein provides for myself and family I was having a hard time coming to terms with the actual deed of killing an animal. Asking myself the question “if the thought of taking an animal’s life is so difficult, should I be an omnivore”? My time on this farm has deepened my connection with nature and in turn, has deepened my connection to the animals that I lovingly care for on a daily basis. They all have distinct personalities, depth, and energy and there is sincere value to that. However, at the end of the day, I do believe that as humans we are part of an evolved food chain that puts us in a position to consume animals as nourishment if it feels right physically. The problem isn’t that we are taking animal’s lives, but as a society, we are consuming animal protein in a disrespectful and disconnected manner through large commercial operations. Had I been raised to experience and honor the animals that I eat then perhaps the process wouldn’t cause me so much heartache.