Poultry

For a while my father didn’t want to raise chickens. They always seemed to get into his precious garden. When the neighbors’ chickens would do that, he would hit them with rocks. My mother was worried he would kill one someday.

When my father slowed down a little and reduced the size of his garden, we finally got some chickens. My grandmother had some too. She would kill a chicken for cooking by wringing its neck in one swing. Then she’d put a tub on top of it so it wouldn’t flop around. Such chickens were usually isolated in a coop for a time before being killed, so that they could “clean out” or be fattened maybe.