Being raised on a homestead and all, we had experiences that well, to be honest, can only be believed if you have been raised on a homestead.
One such.
Early one morning while visiting a neighbor (homesteaders are good neighbors - have to be - it's that inner circle support system), Dad found out he was bemoaning losing a pickup load of pullets. The silly things had gotten scared and piled up on one another and suffocated. Chickens are really pretty stupid.
Dad, once finding out the neighbor was just going to bury them, and that they had just died within the hour, asked if he could have them.
Dad, he was resourceful and knowing Mom - determined and diligent and goes without saying - HARD worker, offered to bring them home.
A PICK UP LOAD!!
Imagine how many dead chickens fit in a pick up.
A LOT.
He came home pretty excited.
Chickens.
Since we raised cows chickens would be a delightful diet change.
Trying to describe the task before us - that needed to be done post haste before there was any worry of spoilage - is - impossible.
Four little girls - Mom - Dad - set up in the barn - tables drug from the house, make sift tables from saw horses and plywood, big pots gathered, knifes sharpened, pots boiling to prepare for the plucking. You have to dip chickens into hot, but not quite boiling water to loosen their feathers. Do you know how to check if the water is the right temperature so it will loosen the feathers but NOT cook the bird? Dip one finger in and then dip it in again. If it burns on the first dip - too hot - if you think you can dip it a third time - not hot enough.
That's the truth. I can still remember testing.
This next picture I found isn't pretty but gives an idea of my memory...
Mother was meticulous and clean. VERY clean.
Dad mostly did the hot dipping, us girls mostly did the 'outside' work (that means plucking hot soggy stinky feathers) and Mom mostly did the 'inside' work. I remember her pulling out those chicken guts all the live long day. She carefully saved the gizzard, heart, liver, not to waste anything.
I don't remember the chicken count.
Two hundred and fifty - three hundred? Four million? Does that sound about right, Mom?
Oh...we soldiered on. We completed the task before night fall. We had to have the barn back in order before night time milking.
Chickens laying in the top of our freezer and all the neighbors. (Good neighbors - we left a few for them.) (You can't just put all those hot chickens in one freezer as they will spoil before they all freeze.)
And interesting twist to the story.
I had the stomach flu.
Think on it...stomach flu..dipping and cleaning hot stinky chickens...not a good combination.
Mom said, "Oh, Honey I am sorry you are sick - but we need you - you can lay in the manager as you do your part. You can be sick tomorrow."
So I laid in the manager as I did my part.
Lessons:
No question I was part of a family that needed me, that just feels really really good. Not just 'cuz I was a good chicken plucker, (I am a good chicken plucker!) but I am part of a team. I have something to contribute. What I do and who I am makes a difference. I belong! Do I help my kids know they are part of a family that really needs them. I hope so.
Sometimes we just have to work - even when we have the flu. Knowing we can be sick tomorrow, after the task is done.
While I am not cleaning a pickup load of chickens, thank goodness, I am working pretty diligently to prepare for my upcoming shows.
I am not sick. Thank goodness.
I know how to work hard. Thank goodness.
I can tackle a task. Thank goodness.
I was raised on a homestead. Thank goodness.