The Roosters Croweth no more.

Eight "pullets".  Ya, right.  In the end, three pullets and five roosters.  The last two roosters headed to the chopping block today.  Or, should I say, the head ripping off broom handle. Today, however, I had accomplices.  Some Grandmas invite their grandchildren to come and bake sugar cookies, or watch a movie, or eat little cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off.  But, remember who we're talking about here.  There will be no cucumber sandwich eating going on here.  No, I invite my grandchildren to come help me butcher chickens.  Mel wasn't sure about it at first.  Would they be traumatized?  Would they have nightmares?  Would they ever eat chicken nuggets again?  But, I convinced her it was a good idea for the kids to know where food came from, so she finally consented.  It's so hard to tell your crazy mother in law "no" sometimes.  I picked up Hannah, the 8 year old and the oldest,  in my Commander and we sped through town to my house.  She helped me set up the butchering table and get the plucking pot boiling on the stove.  Then the others arrived. We used Jay's, (sorry honey), big fishing net out of the boat and first Brie, the 7 year old, ventured into the chicken run.  Watching her chase the big rooster with a giant fishing net was way better than watching me run around in my  pink nightie and leopard print hair curlers.  Okay, maybe not, but it was pretty cute.  She dropped the big net over the squawking rooster's head first try and trapped him.  Enter Grandma to grab him by his feet and carry him to the butchering area.  Mel stood on the patio holding her breath as I put the big rooster's neck under my broom handle.  Paige stood quietly by the back door,  holding Sally, the nervous dachshund puppy in her arms.  Lincoln peered from behind Tater's big doghouse.  Hannah and Brie were right there next to me, waiting anxiously to see what happened.  Rooster neck in place, feet straddled the head, I grabbed hold  of the  big rooster talons and with a quick yank, the deed was done.  After it was all done, Mel admitted it wasn't as gruesome as she had imagined.  Everything was going according to routine.  With that line said, you all know things are quickly about to change.  My system of the bungee cord around the rooster feet and strapped to the side of my butchering table was somehow flawed this time around.  As soon as I hung the headless feathered beast upside down, it somehow managed to hop loose and proceeded to run, headless around the yard.  In a split second the girls were screaming like, well....., like little girls, and running away from the headless chicken that seemed to be chasing after them.  Mel was on the porch laughing, ummm, well I would say laughing her head off, but that just seems inappropriate.  She was laughing pretty hard.  Moose, the Lhasa Apso, was making a mad dash after the out of control chicken trying to pin it down so I could grab it.  It only took seconds, but I think it all happened in slow motion.  At last the situation was under control and we were ready for the 2nd rooster.  This time Hannah, who is quite the little warrior, face paint and all, took the big fish net and headed for the chicken pen.  She marched right in without hesitation and with determination she dropped the net right over that rooster's head before he even had time to jump.  Grandma snatched him up by the feet and with unexpected and a little disturbing glee, the girls skipped to the butchering site and prepared excitedly for the next rooster execution.  And, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but the retention system for draining the headless birds failed once again and the whole headless chicken running around the yard with dogs barking and girls screaming repeated itself.  Oh what a tale these kids will have to tell!  Now when they hear someone say, "I've just been running around all day like a chicken with my head cut off", it will produce a very distinct image in their minds.  They took strange delight in dipping foghorn leghorn into the pot of boiling water and then stripping him of his feathers.  And, weirdest of all, Hannah delighted in examining the gooey parts that I pulled out of the inside.  Mel nearly lost her breakfast as the partially digested chicken food spilled from the gullet.  Hannah, on the other hand, was fascinated by the heart, lungs, liver and the pebbles and crap that were inside the gizzard.  She asked me to cut off it's foot so she could look at it.  I am quite certain if Mel would have allowed it, she would have taken that foot home as a keepsake of the day.  We plucked, gutted, cleaned, and cut up those two roosters.  Mel took Hannah and Lincoln home and Paige and Brie stayed for awhile to do normal things like play with Grandma's dollhouse and toys. (yes, I do have some normal things).  Then I strapped them in the back of the Commander with the bungee net (because that is completely normal), and drove them back home.  This shouldn't be a day they will forget any time soon.  I can't wait for Paige to go to Sunday School class on Sunday.  She will be more than happy to share all the glorious details of head ripping, wild headless roosters running around, and blood spurting, with her entire class.  If only I could see the horrified look on her teacher's face when she does.