Chicken. . . the second coming.

So, a few months ago I posted about the day I had to kill our chicken.  Sadly, it was the 2nd of our chickens that had to meet a brutal and unfortunate demise.  This past week I had to end it for another again.

Last time I shot the chicken it caused a lot of controversy.  My family lashed out at me about how mean I was, and how the poor chicken never had a chance.  “Awww, how could you kill an innocent animal?”  This sentiment was echoed by some of my co-workers.  I never realized how many chicken sympathizers were in the world.  What the hell?  I know for a fact many of them eat chicken.

The chicken assassination I wrote about last time really messed with my head.  I must have loaded and unloaded my gun a dozen times.  I felt guilty and sick to have to kill something.  I remember sitting pathetically on the pasture ground with my rifle in hand, I was criss cross applesauce.  I kept putting the gun up and lining the head of the chicken up in my sites.  My finger would touch the trigger but I could not bring myself to pull it for a long time.  This latest chicken would prove different…

Part of my last issue was the fact that the chicken never did anything to bother me.  I heard it was a menace from Natalie.  She would tell me that it was getting aggressive with the kids.  My kids would not go outside to play out of fear.  I killed it purely out of hearsay.

This chicken was much the same at first.  My girls would not go out and play if he was anywhere in the vicinity.  I had never seen it act aggressive but after talking to Natalie I knew that it was only a matter of time before he faced the same fate as the last chicken, and Tuco before him.

So it was Thursday.  I had to get a package to the post office.  I had a large box with a small box inside so I could go to the post office and find a flat rate box.  Not uncommon, when I went out the door all three of our chickens were on the porch(we had two hens and one rooster), when I open the door they always scatter.  On this day the hens took off like usual without looking back.  But the male just walked really slow and menacing and kept looking back at me.  I held the box out and said “Move!  Get outta here!”  while I shoved the box towards him.  Instead of avoiding my outstretched hand and box, he turned and puffed up his neck and chest.  The look in his eyes said “Motherfucker, I will kill you!”  I put the box down and grabbed a metal pole and tried to show my leadership.  I waved it at him and said “Who do you think you are?  Get the hell out of here!”, I waved the pole at him and did a couple of jab steps towards him.  He did not retreat a bit, instead he turned back at me and puffed up without a fear of being clubbed to death.

I laughed out loud and looked around to make sure none of my neighbors were watching this ridiculous spectacle.  No one was in sight.  I rammed the pole into the dirt and grabbed my package.  I wasn’t going to play his game now.  He just stood there, staring at me, eyes as cold as a serial killer.  I kept the box between him and I as I tried to go around him to get to my car.  He puffed up again and came a couple of steps towards me.  “Hey!”  I yelled and pushed the box out towards him.  He took two more steps and puffed up even more.

Let me pause for a second.  After I told my neighbor this story, who was smiling from ear to ear the whole time.  He told me I needed to flex my dominance by kicking him square in his chest so he knew who the boss was.  I’ll just say, that is not how it went down.

He was puffed up and taking steps toward me.  My eyes almost popped out of my head.  I dropped the box and ran full speed away from him.  After about 20 yards in a full spring I looked back.  He was chasing me at full speed.  My heart raced like crazy.  I had never been chased by a chicken.  He showed no sign of letting up, he looked like one of those scary raptors in Jurassic park.  I hit another gear and ran as fast as I ever have.  30 more yards and I looked back.  Holy shit, he was still chasing me at full speed!  On a good note, I had gotten further ahead.  From the porch to the end of my driveway is about 120 yards.  I was nearing a tree and I thought about jumping up and into the branches so I could be away from his wrath.  But then I imagined missing the branch and falling to the ground.  He would get me, and then what?  What would he do to me?  He had that sharp beak and brutal, sharp talons.  My mind was racing so quick.  My best chances were to keep running to the street.  Maybe he would follow me onto the road and be struck by a car.  I made it to the street and looked back.  Finally he had stopped about 20 yards short of the driveway and just stood looking at me.  I felt like a punk as I stood on the street looking onto my property.  A chicken had run my off my own land.

I called the house and asked Natalie if she saw what happened.  She said no and said “Holy shit!  What are you doing all the way down there?”  I told her the story and I had to sneak back to the house in a big loop around the opposite end of the property.  I told her that fucker was dead.

I got back from the post office and loaded the gun.  He took a while to get into a position where I could shoot him, but this time it was way quicker.  I also slept just fine that night.  Thank you!

A couple of hours passed and the only guilt I had was that I killed it without eating it.  We decided to try and prepare it but realized that we had no pot big enough.  I went across to my neighbor Norbert’s house and offered it to him because we had no pot.  He said he would take away all excuses and let me use his big frying pot and propane stove to do it myself.  I laughed and ended up coming home with the materials I needed to defeather and prepare a chicken.

To my surprise, this chicken was huge.  Probably about 15 pounds.  My girls and one of their friends Caitlin, insisted on helping.  We cut the head off and put it into boiling water, we pulled the feathers off.  I had the chicken ready to be gutted but I had never done it.  I went into the kitchen and cut a whole in the back of it.  I must have hit the intestine because immediately the room smelt like rotten ass.  I drive heaved numerous times and decided I wasn’t going to finish this chicken.  Instead we got rid of it.  After talking to Norbert again on the follow up, he said that it had been too long since it died and we probably didn’t want to eat it anyway.  Here are the pictures from the eventful day and the aftermath of the poor chicken.IMG_1874Check out the size of this, I was too chicken to touch it with my bare hands but Natalie just grabbed it like a soldier,  lol IMG_1875The kids were mesmerized by the whole thing and at the same time terrified.

IMG_1877 IMG_1876 IMG_1878That cut in the back end released the worse smell ever.  Note to self, don’t do this in house again!

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