Chickens

One day my folks bought a bunch of chickens from a local farmer so they would be fresh.  They were so fresh they were still clucking, literally, walking, clucking, pecking smelly chickens!!  It was gross, at least I thought so, until, they talked about  wringing their necks and plucking feathers, which was even more gross!!  My sister Diane, wanted to help dad kill those birds.  Dad had me come behind the house with Di and he was going to show us how to kill a chicken.  Seeing the first one was all I could tolerate, so I ran back into the house and cried to mom.  She told me to stop the crying, they are only chickens for goodness sake.  Well even for chickens it was allot of blood.  Diane could not have been happier, helping to ring somethings neck.  At least she had some else to pester than me for a while.  Dad would get hold of a chicken hold it down, he had Di grab it's neck and pull while he chopped off its head.  Diane danced around with her chicken heads like they were her best friends.  Enough of that gruesome picture.  Dad brought the chickens in and mom then boiled them with their feathers on, pew, the smell of wet, hot feathers boiling is very very gross!  Dad put newspaper on the kitchen table to pluck the feathers.  Mom made me try to help pull them out which was not easy.  At the end of the feathers part you pulled was a  sharp pointy end.  Just pulling that out of the skin of the chicken made me so sick to my stomach.  I had to go to the park to get away from the smell and the whole process.  Once they finished plucking, was the cooking part, then the canning, or freezing.  When we ate them they were delicious, but I don't care to know what happens or how they prepare it for human consumpstion.  My career choice would difinitely not be chicken farmer!!