He's Gone Country

Today I officially entered into the elite secret society of "country bumpkins".

When I asked my wife what she wanted for her birthday a year ago, she answered back, "Chickens". Well, a day or two later, we had four newly-hatched chicks. A few days later, we had four more. A short time later, we had yet two more. (That makes a total of twelve.)

Two of the hens died, and two of the chicks grew up to be roosters. The remaning eight have been and continue to be excellent laying hens. (Anybody want to buy some fresh eggs?)

Here's the problem: I never got around to butchering those two roosters, never that is, until today!

If you've never had chickens, then you might not understand that unless you plan on hatching yearly chicks (which is actually quite a chore), roosters are entirely useless. Additionally, their increased size means they eat an unfair portion of food. They are incredibly loud (our two Rhode Island Red roosters liked to crow in unison for some reason in the mornings) and contrary to popular ideas, they do not just crow in the mornings. To add insult to injury, a few months back when our roosters finally completed their maturation process, they decided suddenly that they owned the chicken coop! If you went unsuspectingly to feed or water early in the morning (when they're most active), they would often times fly right at you, spurs extended seeking to skin some shins. Needless to say, these things were rather frustrating. (Disclaimer: the pastor of Hickory Hill Baptist Church has oft times been heard yelling at the top of his lungs like a banchee rebuking the arrogance of these winged terrors.)

Anyway, all that changed. My good country friend came over early this morning. We got ahold of those onery little suckers and, well let's just say that my freezer is a little bit fuller this evening.

All of that to say, it was actually a pretty neat experience. I wasn't sure how I would feel about it (after all, I raised these guys since they were newly-hatched, daily feeding, watering, etc.). I don't know, I guess I was attacked one too many times. Or maybe it's just the good ole boy in me, but I actually enjoyed learning how to butcher this morning. With that, my city-boy gentle hands were officially cristened "COUNTRY". I've made it! I'm now a chicken-raising, egg-selling, poop-hauling, rooster-slaughtering country boy. Who would have thought?

Actually, it was all quite outstanding. God gave these creatures for our provision. I raised them up from nothing and now I get to enjoy the fruit of my labors.

Thank you God for roosters. Thank you especially for the frozen ones.