Merry Christmas, here’s a dead chicken!
You might notice that this year I haven’t done much for Christmas, unlike last year. I’ll probably correct that next year.
Uhhh… that’s all I’ve got to say.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Okay, okay. I’ll talk about the chicken. See, here’s the thing, I’ve never killed a chicken in my life. I always pictured it as a matter of cutting their head off with an axe or something. But, apparently, when you’ve got hundreds of chickens to kill that’s not very efficient.
So you kill them by spinning them until their neck snaps. As I say, I’ve never done this, but Hobart has. In his case — and the case that this story is modelled on — he was killing egg laying chickens, not food stock. See, after a certain point chickens get so old they can’t lay eggs any more. So what do you do? Cast them out and let them starve? Nope, you kill ‘em.
So yeah.
Merry Christmas!
–Andrew S.
The other reason you don’t chop their heads off, is the headless bodies run around, spraying various fluids everywhere.
Then you’ve got to go find it.
Then you’ve got to go clean up the mess.
One of my earliest memories from living in the country as a child, is chasing a headless chicken around the yard.
Those little bastards are bloody fast. And Bloody.