Too many cockerels

The Cream Legbar in the foreground is the lucky one
who's been chosen as breeding stock. He'll get a name now.
This is the last photo of the other two Teenagers. Their dispatch was made all the more difficult by their friendliness.

Some nice sunrise photos before the gory details.

Monday 13th August 2012

One of the problems with hatching your own eggs is what to do with the cockerels. In this respect we've been incredibly unfortunate in that we've only got three hens from all the eggs we've hatched. This means that we have rather a lot of young cockerels now strutting their stuff and beginning to challenge Cocky. He soon puts them in their place, but this still makes for a less settled coop - noisy crowing, chases, scuffles and hassled hens.
So yesterday, as a cruel balance to the arrival of the cute, fluffy chicks and ducklings, two of the Teenagers had to go for the pot.

This is why the teenagers were never given names.

I don't feel guilty about this. In fact, quite the opposite. They've had a good life (though short), much better than any commercial chicken would fare.

Many people ask how we can dispatch chickens and how we can send pigs to slaughter. My response is to ask how they can consume the same products without knowing about how it lived in the first place (or caring enough to do anything to change things, apart from paying a few extra quid if they can afford it to ease their consciences). Just because we distance ourselves from something and pay somebody else to do the deed does not make it more acceptable. In fact that very disassociaiton with the whole process leads to a lack of respect for the life which has been taken. That's the bee in my bonnet let loose for a while. 

However, Sue and I are still getting used to dispatching chickens. The same gentle, compassionate side to our nature that makes sure our animals are well cared for also dictates that they are swiftly and humanely dispatched, an act where compasson and hard-heartedness become strange and uncomfortable bedfellows.

I'm sure we'll get used to it eventually, though we'll never become discompassonate.
Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to a lovely roast chicken tonight. Of course, all the vegetables will come from our own plot, but there's something very special about it when the meat is home-produced too.

All our own produce.
This was the friendliest chicken we've ever had.
It was the tastiest too!