Their One Bad Day

Yesterday was processing day for the meatballs.  It was exhausting.  However, it went very well, for a first processing day.  Want a tour?

The area was pretty well set up on Friday, with three distinct areas.  All we really had to do yesterday was heat the water and start.  I put my hair up and went outside.

See how blonde I am?  Yep, that's where my kids get it from!
I'm just surprised the greys didn't show up in this photo.  I'm a little disappointed. 

I was all ready to work, but oh no, that was just not to be.  See these greenhouses?  They're out to get the seedlings acclimated to the outside.  But yesterday morning, the big one--the FULL one--decided to collapse.  Yeay!  Seedlings all over the place.  Yep, I lost a few, which is infuriating.  It must have thought I needed something else to do.

So after I finished cursing, my husband came out and helped me pick up the pieces.  We duct taped the hell out of the thing to keep it upright.  GAH!

It ate a good 1/2 hour of our time.  Stupid greenhouse.  After that, we were ready to go.

As I said, there were three distinct areas, to keep things as clean as possible.  I think you know what this area was for:

This traffic cone thing doesn't work too well.  I didn't have killing cones, so I made do, but this isn't the best.  They're not shaped right.  We had to trim the right one down right with the first bird.  She went in, and her head didn't come out the bottom.  It was a no go.  So down it came, it was trimmed a good 4 inches, and we were off.  It wasn't the best, though.  No one really fit it very well.

From there, they went to the second area.  Scalding:

And then plucking.

This little doojobby works very well, and I can recommend it.  It's the Power Plucker, and wow, did it save us work.  Don't let it hit your fingers, though.  It hurts like crazy.  At the end of the day, as I got tired, I got hit more.  I did not appreciate it.  My husband manned the trigger and kept the drill steady, and I put the chicken to it.  It does a fantastic job, but the feathers fly!  Safety glasses would be a good idea. 

After the chickens were plucked, they were brought to the third station for evisceration.

It's an old table, propped up on paint cans because the height was no good when it was flat on the ground.  My poor back!  The cans gave it a good height.  The table is plastic, so it's easy to clean.  On it you can see a large red pan full of soapy water to wash my hands in, a small bowl of bleach water with a sponge, the knives I needed, a steel,

 and this:

This is that glassine stuff I told you about.  It is so easy to clean.  I just taped down the big piece of it and did all the work on it.  It washed off like a dream. 

Also attached to the table was the indispensable hose.

This fell down a lot.

I also had my "cheat sheet". 

My quickly scribbled order of steps.  I didn't look at it once.  Not once.  Woo hoo!

Right next to where I stood to process was the always necessary gut bucket.

Glamorous!

And right next to the table?  Coolers.

These were the "step 1" coolers.  Right after processing, the chickens would go in here.  After they'd been in there for a little while (ie; the coolers were full and the chickens were not as warm), the chickens that had been in there would go into the next much larger and much colder cooler.  That's where they'd chill down thoroughly before draining in the sink in the house.

In all, the system worked very well.  Better at the end of the day, when I was getting really tired and took two at a time.  In the beginning, my husband would get one chicken, I'd dispatch it, wait, then scald, pick, eviscerate.  Repeat.  It took a long time.  Towards the end, I'd ask him to get two.  I'd dispatch both, then scald and pluck one, then the other, and I'd eviscerate two at a time.  It went much faster that way.  No matter, my limit for processing chickens is going to be a max of 15.  12 was tough, faster when two went at once, but I think that by myself, 15 is going to be it.  I was just DONE when the day was over.

The results?  A total of 69.71 pounds from the 12 that were done and the one that I took early.  I had to count him in the end, even though he was processed earlier, because he's part of the batch. 

One is for dinner tonight. 

The most disappointing thing?  Most weighed under 5 pounds.  Though some did weigh over six, they weren't the majority.  I did have more hens than roosters, though, so that's most likely why.  One little one weighed under 4 pounds, that was a bummer.  I had hoped they would be larger, but in all, they did ok.

Weirdest thing of the day?  I had a yellow one.  She had yellow legs, where everyone else had whitey pink.  Should've figured that her skin would be yellow too, but I didn't.  And it was.  Freaky.  So you all can tell Mr. Perdue to go climb a tree.  He claimed "his" chickens were yellow because he fed them marigolds.  NOT!  This chicken never ever saw a dang marigold, and she was as yellow as the sun.  So myth busted, Mr. Perdue.  Should I mention that my chickens won't eat marigolds as well?  I put them in the garden last fall to turn the soil, and they ate everything--except the marigolds.  So they don't like them.  Myth busted again.

Most surprising thing of the day?  My kids.  I thought they'd hide all day and not want to be near any of it, but they took it in stride.  I think they pretty much saw everything, and didn't bat an eye.  In fact, my son held an umbrella over me for part of the day when it was very sunny (he waned to, I didn't ask him) and saw everything inside the chicken (and the gut bucket).  It really didn't upset him as much as I thought it would.  All he said was that it was "yucky".  But he wasn't freaked out, and I thought he would be.  And my daughter was the same.  Except she really wanted to see a heart.  And then she was surprised how small it was. 

I must be doing something right, huh?  They're turning out to be good farm kids. 

And that was my day.  I'm glad it's over, and I have 10 weeks before I do it again.  But I'm glad I did it.  I only hope that the chicken in the fridge is completely wonderful to eat and make it all worthwhile.  Either way, these guys and girls all had a good life, much better than they would have, and I'm glad for that.  Here's to doing it yourself!

They Don't Stand Still

Those of you with goats already know this--they don't stand still.  Not like a horse, who stands nice as you please for quite a while.  These girls are up and all over the place, and after a full day of staying inside while it poured out, they are completely bonkers.  Makes them a little difficult to photograph, but I did my best today.  Enjoy!

Lilly on her favorite rock

Minerva says hello (or she's chewing something.  Either way is good)

Dulcinea says long ears are for suckers

Short ears are where it's at. 

"What the heck, maaa!  I did NOT say that!"

Bad girls in the front garden

Lilly eating her favorite tree.  Er--one of her favorite trees.  The girl's a real tree conoisseur.

Min prefers grasses.  I guess no one told her that goats aren't grazers.

In case you were curious, Min is doing ok after her vet visit.  She started to eat in truth the next day.  Since then, I've discovered that the girls didn't care for the new grain they'd been transitioned to, and had only been eating it because their old grain was mixed in.  Once that was gone, they turned their noses up.  I remedied that by adding whole corn to their mix, which was what was in the old one.  This way they get all the vitamins and minerals they need, but they actually eat it, which is important.  They are picky!

As to Min's coughing, she still is and so is Lilly.  I have no idea why or what sets it off.  They are acting fine otherwise.  I think Min is a little under condition, so I'm working on that.  She usually gets the rest of the bottle if Dulci doesn't finish it.  She's a big baby, that one!  I was hoping the extra fat she gets (in the maybe 2 ounces that Dulci leaves) will help.  Hopefully it's not a hinderance.

Aaah, good times.  These girls are a joy to me, that's the truth. 

Have a great day!

Joining the Ranks

Today I got what is--hands down--the noisiest package of birds from the post office.  I've gotten many packages from the post office before, but none that made this much noise.  What was in it?  Primadonna birds, of course! 

Yep, I went and bought me some fancy feathered gals.  I've got lots of really pretty working girls, but not a one of those little feathered jewels.  You know the ones--they've got the feathers on their heads and can hardly see?  More for looks than for use?  Those ladies, yep.  I thought it would be nice to have some really fancy girls running amongst my hard workers.

However, I did spring for a couple of working girls/pretty girls too.  Come on, you know enough about me to know I can't just have birds "for pretty", but I do like a bird that's pretty and useful, so here they are:

Blue Andalusians

It'll be interesting to see if they actually turn out blue, since one of them looks to me like it's white.  But whatever.  These girls should produce some nice white eggs, a color I don't have much of, and will have lovely long tails.  Fancy!

White Cochins

I've got one Black Cochin already, Abigail; aka Fat Black.  She's fairly useless and more pretty than productive.  She is nice to look at, though, so these should be nice to look at too.  Maybe they'll lay eggs as well.  Who knows?

Blue Laced Red Wyandottes

Confession:  I covet chickens the way some women covet shoes or jewelry (I said some).  This is THE chicken I have been waiting on for years.  I could never get one.  They were always sold out.  And now here they are.  I only hope they will feather out as beautifully as I hope they do.  If they turn out to be a bust, I will be heartbroken. So much pressure!!!

Now for the pretty faces.

White Silkies

Unfortunately, they only come straight run, so it's a crap shoot as to what I've got here.  The last time I bought Silkies, I got Albert and Henry.  Big disapointment, especially because Albert now hates me.  I've started calling him Senor Pecky Pants, because every time I go into "his" coop, he pecks me as much as he can.  It may have something to do with the fact that I took him to a fourth grade classroom as show and tell, but he's not talking.  He'd be a good candidate for therapy.

Anyway, these little ones are not telling what they are, so I'll have to wait to find out.  I've crossed my fingers that they are not all roosters.  That would just be too much to handle.

Spitzhauben

Bad hair day?  We'll see.  Love the spots, though.  I am always a sucker for polka dots.

Sultan

Eyes are SO overrated!

And last but not least:

Polish

I don't know what color these two are.  I just went for the assorted hens, I didn't want to commit to color (too much pressure!).  We'll have to see how they turn out.  They've already won me over, though.  They are nosy and kinda pushy.  Gotta admire that in someone who weighs maybe an ounce.

The working pretty girls will reside in the big coop with the genpop when they're all grown up.

I love my big coop.  Happiness!

The fancy-schmancy girls will reside in the Little Red Coopette

Little red coopette used to be Little Maroon Coopette, but come on.  After looking at the beautiful big coop, that just didn't fly.  She looked dull as dishwater.  So I repainted her with the color I used on the front door.  Cause I like red.  And she needed a makeover.  Now she's a sexy thing, don't you think?  Perfectly appropriate for little diva birds.  Probably needs a sign, though....

Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.  Birds, birds everywhere!  Have a great day and stay dry.  Today it's raining rain on me, so I'm inside trying to clean my sewing room.  Good times.

The First One

The processing date for the meatballs is this weekend (I know; is this ALL I talk about???).  However, we've lost one already to a sickness, and there was another very large rooster that looked like he might be going down.  Nothing truly definable, but his comb wasn't as red as the others', and he was sitting down a might more than the others were.  At this point, I am erring on the side of paranoia, because they're about done, and I really don't want to lose any more to a sickness.  So I decided to take him early.
Enter Mr. Bird:

He was a good bird, I'm sure he enjoyed his nearly 8 weeks on this earth.  He seemed happy enough, as meatballs go. 

His processing was textbook, it was my butchering technique which was rusty.  Again, my husband watched as I worked.  He was a trooper.  This time he made it all the way through the dispatching to the gutting.  He only looked faint twice--as the little guy died, and as I dug the gizzard out of the gut bucket to show him.  Not bad, since I think the killing is the hardest part--I can't help him with the gizzard thing.  Guts are guts.  Yep, I did shed a couple of tears when I put the bird down.  I am always surprised at myself when I take a life--it's so not me.  But I did what I had to do, it was quick and clean, and he went peacefully.

His processing was fine.  There was nothing out of the ordinary inside that showed me he was ill.  Maybe I caught it in time, maybe nothing was wrong, but I'm glad I erred on the side of caution.  Mr. Bird weighed in at 6.2 lbs after he was all chilled down.  That would have been a shame to miss out on.

Yep!  I shrink bagged him!  So purty!

What did I learn from this?  As you know, I like to learn something from everything, so here's the recap:

1. I am rusty at this.  I need a lot more practice.  However, it was faster than I remembered it being, and except for my timidity, it was pretty easy.
2. Very sharp knives are very important.  Luckily, both the killing and eviscerating knives were (this time) very, very sharp. 
3. Removing the feet is the easiest part.  Removing the crop is the hardest part.
4. I cannot work at table height.  I had put some leftover glassine on the table, and used that as a mat.  The bending over was killing me, though.  Forget that.  The table will need to be propped up or my back is going to hate me forever.
5. Glassine works really well as a butchering surface--it washes right off.  (I think it's called glassine, I'm not sure.  It's that fancy wipe-off stuff that people use in their chicken coops as a floor.  My mom used it and gave me a couple of big pieces, so I used it for this.  Works well.)
6. I will never dry pluck again.  I was cocky-I thought "Hey, it's one chicken, and the feathers just come out, how bad can it be?".  Ha!  It was a pain in the arse.  So, from now on, I will always dunk them first, and in fact, I've invested in a drill-based plucker to help.  I can't afford the big ones, so we will try this.  But holy cow, anything that makes it go faster than the hour it took me to do this one will be a vast improvement.  And you know what?  After I was all done and he was ready for wrapping, I was STILL picking little feather bits off of him.  AUGH!!!
7. Guts are guts.  Removing them is like my old AP Bio class from high school.

And that's about all I have to say about that.  Tune in next time, when we'll have some goaty pictures or something else, as long as it has nothing to do with these dang meatbirds.

Till then,

Linking to:

Post 250

So this is post 250.  I don't know that it means much other than I babble a lot, but I did want to take the opportunity to thank all of you.

Thank you for reading.

Waiting for warmer weather

Thank you for caring.

Also waiting.  They've taken over the dining room!

Thank you for asking questions and giving answers.

The turkey poults arrived today

And thank you for sharing your lives in return. 

They are very turkey-like (poult-ish?)

In gratitude, I thought I'd share some gratuitous kitten cuteness.  Are you ready?  Buckle up!

This is Thor. Can you guess who named him?

Hint: It was not my 8 year old son, nor my daughter, and I only have 2 kids.

It doesn't really matter, though....

Because Thor is friggin' adorable.

Equally adorable is Thor's sister, who came out from behind the dresser....

...and walked right into the curtain.  Oh well.  Still cute, though, right?

Percy wanted to see her, so I brought her out to him.

She didn't care, but he sniffed her and then ran away as if terrified.  He's a big wuss.

Cute little potato bugs, right?  We've been trying to get them to come out and socialize, which is hard because Ellie is SO protective.  Yesterday night we brought the little buggers out to sit with us on the couch, and Ellie got wind of it and grabbed Thor to bring him back to her home base behind the dresser.  I would have felt bad, but it was so damn funny.  Ellie is really small, and though she'd scruffed Thor, she was dragging his butt on the floor the entire way back.  There's a shiny streak on the kitchen floor from where his rear end buffed it.  (Ok, I might exaggerate a little.)

Oh well.  The point is, thank you.  I appreciate you all staying with me as we turn this house that was just a house into a home, and this property that was just a property into a homestead.  We've come so far in this time and still have a ways to go.  Thanks for hanging in there!

Thor says thank you, too!
(Damn, he's even cute in black and white!)

Meatball Update

The meatballs are no longer small. In fact, I'd no longer call them meatballs, and more call them meatloaves.  It fits better and seems more respectful of their -ahem- stature.  This week they've celebrated their 7-week birthday, which means their time here is near an end.  I can tell you that I respect these animals, and I definitely respect the sacrifice that they will be making forthwith.  But possibly the most interesting thing I've learned about them if the way I feel about them.  Surprisingly (to me, that is), I've begun to see them as a "crop".  (That's fine, you go ahead and feel I'm a terrible person, I'm okay with that)  In the beginning, they were just little birds-just like all the other little chicks that come through here.  Only I didn't give them names or spend much time with them other than to insure they were comfortable.  As they grew, I began to look at them like little crops.  Kind of like, "hmmm. That one's getting beefy-he'll make a nice harvest", or "Yep, I can see definite weight gain", or making sure they got enough sunshine and time to run.


Don't get me wrong--I'm WELL aware that these are not pea plants I'm talking about.  But they are a lot of work.  They eat at least 10 pounds of food a day, so I monitor that, and I am refilling their water tower 2, sometimes 3 times a day.  By far, they take up the most of my time (talking birds here, not baby-bottle fed goatlings--Dulci wins the "who gets the most of my attention" award hands down).  And since they are a form of "crop", it is almost harvest time, and I want to make sure that all my hard work is going to come to some sort of fruition.

So in comes the scale.  I have been weighing them for the past three weeks now, and they have quickly gone from fitting on the scale, to no longer even half fitting on the scale.  I had to use a bowl to put the chicken in to see how much it weighed.

The birds do not like the scale.  That's putting it kindly.

Do you see how BIG that chicken is?  Yikes!  That's a big bowl, darlings, and that bird hardly fits.  That's not even one of the bigger birds--it's one of the "smaller" hens.  The boys are huge.

The weights of the chickens I could catch without stressing them into a heart attack ranged from 5 1/2 pounds to 7 pounds.  I only caught five, leaving eight unweighed.  They've gained so fast in the past two weeks I have actually cut back on their food intake.  I used to leave 20 pounds out in their yard and let them (and anyone who hopped their fence) have at it.  No more.  Now I fill it in the morning, let them eat and then graze all day (yes, they do graze like other chickens) and then I fill it in the evening again.  Then they are done until the next day.  They haven't gotten food overnight since they were 3 weeks old--only water.  Still they grow. 

We started with 14.  We now have 13.  For the last two days, one of the roosters hasn't looked so hot.  Yesterday, he was blue.  Alive, but blue.  That's not so good, so after deciding that he probably shouldn't be eaten and was in fact suffering, I took him and my husband out into the woods and dispatched him.  Not my husband--the chicken.  I took my husband out so he could see what it looked like to kill a bird.  Poor man.  He looked fairly queasy, and goodness knows what he thinks of me now, but I made a clean cut, and the bird bled out really quickly.  After the bird was gone, I showed my husband how to take off the feet (because he asked), and then how we would open the bird up.  Poor man looked really queasy at that point, but he was brave.  He insists that he will help me when it's processing time.  He said it looked like biology class.  I told him it's actually easier when the heads and feathers are off--you kind of forget it's a chicken.  Kind of.

As for me?  I think it was good to know I could still hold a knife and deliver the cut cleanly.  It would be horrible to prolong suffering, and I would feel terrible.  However, it did show me how rusty I am at this.  After all, it's been nearly a year since I learned how to butcher, and I haven't done it since.  I need to brush up on my evisceration techniques.  And for that, I found this website.  It's got great information, so I you're rusty like me, take a gander. 

My next steps? I will be watching the birds closely, to see if this weekend is their weekend, or if they can go another week.  Though I don't believe they are being overfed, I don't want to feed them to death, either.  Right now, the remaining 13 are very perky and have been moving around their yard quite well.  That's good.  I'll just be here to make sure none of it goes downhill.

All in a day's work, right?  I'll let you know how I make out!