They say: If you're going to eat it, don't name it. Apparently my kids haven't heard that though because they insist on naming the chickens that they know we can't keep. Or maybe they are hoping that Carmel, Iago, and Waddles will make the cut, so to speak. Don't get me wrong, I love animals. Maybe it's because I grew up on a farm where we butchered animals on a regular basis, but it doesn't bother me in the least that the Waddles the Rooster, whom I heard crowing this morning, will be on our table in a few weeks. Or that I can go out to the freezer and pick out a package of Puddles the Pig. Not at all. In fact, I rather enjoy the idea. These animals aren't my pets, name or not. They are part of life on the farm. And I love them for it.
This weekend I am going to pull out the ole' Whizbang Chicken Plucker, dust it off, and put it to good use processing the 35 chickens that we have been raising for just this very purpose. In June we purchased some CornishX broiler chicks. They were cute and fluffy at first. Now, well, I guess "Robo-Chickens" would be an accurate description. These chickens are not meant to be kept much past 9 weeks old, they grow so fast.
This chicken weighs probably about 7-8 pounds right now at about 8 1/2 weeks. You can't tell so much in the picture but he is really large.
So. Edgar the Dog; Daisy and Misty the cats; Cinnamon, Honey Bunny, and Jackaroo the rabbits; even Henrietta, Mustard, Lemon Drop, and several other chickens: Pets.
Broiler chickens, extra roosters, turkeys, pigs--including Bob, Sam, Waddles, Iaggo, and Carmel: Really great animals to have around for awhile, but ultimately---Dinner.