Back when I grew up, EVERYONE killed and plucked their own turkeys – not to mention – their own chickens as well. In the town where I grew up, it was almost impossible to be able to sell a house in town unless there was a chicken coop already built on the property. When we moved from the farm and in to town, my folks bought their house for $5,000 – because the house did NOT have a chicken coop on the property. My Dad solved the problem by building a three-car garage. The first two spaces were for the car and the pick-up. But the third space was fixed up to be our “chicken coop.” We put chicken wire all around it and then we built a little door so the chickens could come in and out. Then we put a high fence of chicken wire around a significant part of the back yard, so the chickens could come and go during the day and feast on grasshoppers and other bugs. I remember when the owner of the ONLY grocery store in town first offered a chicken which had already been killed and plucked and cut up in his meat counter. All of the ladies in town gathered around and teased him about it. They all told him that NO self-respecting housewife would EVER serve her guests anything other than FRESH chicken. (Prior to the grocer having the bright idea of killing and plucking the chickens himself and offering them, already cut-up, in his refrigerator department, he kept LIVE chickens in a fenced yard behind the store! When I told this story to my kids, they said: “But, when the ladies from town came out to your farm and bought chickens – didn’t you kill the chickens and pluck them and cut them up for your customers?” I told them that something like that NEVER would have happened while I was growing up. In those days, NO self-respecting housewife would have even considered serving her guests anything other than the freshest chicken. When the ladies from town came out to buy chickens, we would catch the chickens which they wanted, and the lady from town would put the chickens in a gunny sack which she had brought with her, then put the chickens in the trunk of her car. When she got to town, she would keep the chickens in HER chicken coop until the day when her company was coming. Then, the morning of the day when the company was expected, she would kill the chicken, pluck it and cut it up for whatever dinner she had in mind for the day. And, in those days, it was actually a VERY rare occasion for people to have meat for more than one or two meals per MONTH! If you went so far as to butcher a chicken, it was usually because you were expecting some VERY important company – such as the preacher from the church or one of the teachers from the school. (When I was growing up, part of the “pay” which every teacher received was to be invited to share a meal with the families of each one of the students in her class every month. If the teacher had 15 students in one class and 10 students in the other class, she could look forward to eating out at least 25 times during the month. EVERY teacher taught TWO classes – such as first and second grade together – in the same room). The same was true for Thanksgiving. When we lived on the farm, we actually raised turkeys as well as chickens, so we did a land-office business at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But we sold the turkeys the same way that we sold the chickens. The ladies from town would come out and pick the turkey they wanted out of our flock. My sister and I would go inside the pen and chase the turkeys around until we managed to catch the turkey which the customer wanted. Then our customer would put the turkey in a gunny sack and carry it home in the trunk of her car. When she got the turkey home, she would keep the turkey in her own chicken coop until it was time to whack the turkey, pluck it and get the bird ready for her holiday guests to arrive!
I must date to Estrlita’s time frame but we had chickens and my job as an eight year old was to go out and get the chicken and cut the head off with an axe. One Sunday I had to kill two, because we were having company, so I cut the head off the first one and let it go and then got the second one. But when that was done I could not find the first one. The nervous system keeps working, whence the cliche “Running around like a chicken with its head cut off”. I looked and looked but never did find it and had to kill another chicken. I haven’t killed anything since except some Viet Cong.
Murph – You had an axe!? You must have been one of those “uptown” folks. We did it by grabbing the chicken by both feet, putting the head under one of our feet and then yanking the chicken’s feet in the opposite direction while keeping our foot firmly on the head. I have seen pictures of people using axes to whack a chicken or a turkey – but never actually knew any – until now!
Sherlock Watson about 12 years ago
It’s like that old story about someone who mistakenly thought his wallet was stolen.
Buzza Wuzza about 12 years ago
Yeah, it’s only a slight twist on an urban legend but when these two goofballs do it it’s funny.
PoodleGroomer about 12 years ago
Killing and plucking your own bird is illegal according to animal cruelty laws.
walruscarver2000 about 12 years ago
A commentary on the politics of today? (Exchanging one turkey for another.)
J Short about 12 years ago
Same reason why it’s good to mark your golf ball.
EstrelitaH about 12 years ago
Back when I grew up, EVERYONE killed and plucked their own turkeys – not to mention – their own chickens as well. In the town where I grew up, it was almost impossible to be able to sell a house in town unless there was a chicken coop already built on the property. When we moved from the farm and in to town, my folks bought their house for $5,000 – because the house did NOT have a chicken coop on the property. My Dad solved the problem by building a three-car garage. The first two spaces were for the car and the pick-up. But the third space was fixed up to be our “chicken coop.” We put chicken wire all around it and then we built a little door so the chickens could come in and out. Then we put a high fence of chicken wire around a significant part of the back yard, so the chickens could come and go during the day and feast on grasshoppers and other bugs. I remember when the owner of the ONLY grocery store in town first offered a chicken which had already been killed and plucked and cut up in his meat counter. All of the ladies in town gathered around and teased him about it. They all told him that NO self-respecting housewife would EVER serve her guests anything other than FRESH chicken. (Prior to the grocer having the bright idea of killing and plucking the chickens himself and offering them, already cut-up, in his refrigerator department, he kept LIVE chickens in a fenced yard behind the store! When I told this story to my kids, they said: “But, when the ladies from town came out to your farm and bought chickens – didn’t you kill the chickens and pluck them and cut them up for your customers?” I told them that something like that NEVER would have happened while I was growing up. In those days, NO self-respecting housewife would have even considered serving her guests anything other than the freshest chicken. When the ladies from town came out to buy chickens, we would catch the chickens which they wanted, and the lady from town would put the chickens in a gunny sack which she had brought with her, then put the chickens in the trunk of her car. When she got to town, she would keep the chickens in HER chicken coop until the day when her company was coming. Then, the morning of the day when the company was expected, she would kill the chicken, pluck it and cut it up for whatever dinner she had in mind for the day. And, in those days, it was actually a VERY rare occasion for people to have meat for more than one or two meals per MONTH! If you went so far as to butcher a chicken, it was usually because you were expecting some VERY important company – such as the preacher from the church or one of the teachers from the school. (When I was growing up, part of the “pay” which every teacher received was to be invited to share a meal with the families of each one of the students in her class every month. If the teacher had 15 students in one class and 10 students in the other class, she could look forward to eating out at least 25 times during the month. EVERY teacher taught TWO classes – such as first and second grade together – in the same room). The same was true for Thanksgiving. When we lived on the farm, we actually raised turkeys as well as chickens, so we did a land-office business at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But we sold the turkeys the same way that we sold the chickens. The ladies from town would come out and pick the turkey they wanted out of our flock. My sister and I would go inside the pen and chase the turkeys around until we managed to catch the turkey which the customer wanted. Then our customer would put the turkey in a gunny sack and carry it home in the trunk of her car. When she got the turkey home, she would keep the turkey in her own chicken coop until it was time to whack the turkey, pluck it and get the bird ready for her holiday guests to arrive!
Stagger Lee about 12 years ago
I need a nap after that.
clarke3060 Premium Member about 12 years ago
Very interesting comment. Thought I had read Mutt & Jeff but I see that it was Lil Abner!
Number Three about 12 years ago
Whoops! That is quite painful to see. Poor man.
LOL LOL. MASSIVE 5/5!
xxx
rmurphy36 about 12 years ago
I must date to Estrlita’s time frame but we had chickens and my job as an eight year old was to go out and get the chicken and cut the head off with an axe. One Sunday I had to kill two, because we were having company, so I cut the head off the first one and let it go and then got the second one. But when that was done I could not find the first one. The nervous system keeps working, whence the cliche “Running around like a chicken with its head cut off”. I looked and looked but never did find it and had to kill another chicken. I haven’t killed anything since except some Viet Cong.
brklnbern about 12 years ago
Jeff is pretty agile. Guess that is supposed to be a man from Turkey with a turkey.
DGH10 about 12 years ago
Estrilita’s story brings back many wonderfull early childhood memories of our farming town.
EstrelitaH about 12 years ago
Murph – You had an axe!? You must have been one of those “uptown” folks. We did it by grabbing the chicken by both feet, putting the head under one of our feet and then yanking the chicken’s feet in the opposite direction while keeping our foot firmly on the head. I have seen pictures of people using axes to whack a chicken or a turkey – but never actually knew any – until now!
tuslog64 about 12 years ago
Another method was to grab the chicken by the head and twirl several times, with a bucket of hot water waiting.And then Col.anders came on the scene.