'When You've Finally Had Enough Chicken'

True life events can be more magical and enjoyable after the fact. They often make the best reads. I wrote this to a friend at the 'Cafe', and he suggested I share it with you. Here is an edited view.

   Sam, Sam, Sam.  "When I was 10, my parents took us kids to Grandpa's farm. It was 'chicken pluck-in time'. Us boys got to stand around and watch my grandpa an uncles lop-off chickens heads one after another. They had a large tree stump with i couple long nails driven in a V shape. They'd take a chicken and holding it by the feet, slap the head between the nails and, 'Wack!', down came the hatchet. As soon as the head popped of they'd toss the carcass out in the yard and it would, 'Run around with it's head cut off'.

    "Larry, git over here, Its your turn!" yells my grandpa. I was all kinds of eager: first to be chosen to join the men at work, and second to have the chance to 'Wack off a Stink-in Chicken's Head'. My grandpa gave me the wooden handled hatchet and showed me how to use it, kind of a demo. The hatchet was heavy and the handle was a bit slippery with blood, but I was determined to succeed. I'd seen the men do it with practiced ease, I didn't see any reason why I couldn't repeat the effort.

    1-Hold the hatchet high over your head. 2-grab the chicken by the legs. -  Scratch that. - Put the hatchet down and chase the chicken around the yard until you could tackle it, then hold it by the legs and go get the hatchet. Chickens are sure dumb. They just hang from your hand by their legs. Don't they know their going to die? Mine didn't. But, he was determined to get his head out from between the nails every time I put him there, as I tried to reach for the hatchet. 'Squawk', he'd bark and he'd just lift his head right out. I couldn't hold the hatchet while I used both hands to get his head stuck, and each time I'd reach, he'd up and pop out. About this time I noticed there was a lot of noise going on around me. At first it was just us 'Men' do-in the work. But in the meantime the house had emptied out, and all the women folk and kids were all standing around in a circle laugh-in their 'heads off' too.

   'That's it', I said to myself. 'I've had enough of this chicken make-in a fool out of me'. I slammed his head down and stuck my boot on top of it while I got the hatched in my hand. 'Finally', I thought. But looking at this new situation, I could see I had another problem, I couldn't see his neck with my boot on top of it. My grandpa had pity on me and came over all smiles. 'Son, you got to pull hard backward on the feet to keep her head between the nails, like this'. And he showed me the trick.

   'HER'!  Nobody had told me we were kill-in the girls! -  Now that I had HER head between the nails and I could see her neck, I hesitated. Everyone was quiet, I could hear my heart drumming in my ears. I started again. - 1-Hold the hatchet high over your head. 2-Grab the GIRL chicken by the legs, (My mother was a girl too!). 3-Aim for the neck and CHOP DOWN HARD.

   I closed my eyes tight and chopped down where I remember the neck was. 'WACK' came the sound of the hatchet hitting the tree stump. I opened my eyes to see the back half of the head was cut off, but the neck was still attached. 'Squawk' she bellowed long and loud. I dropped her feet and grabbing the hatchet with both hands and began to swing, over and over, at her neck until at last her body dropped on to the ground. Finally, my ordeal was over, I'd done a man's work.

   'EEEEEK' came a soft sound from the other side of the tree stump. As I took a step to look over the edge of the stump, up popped the chicken; without any head, squirting blood all over the place. Now, with its feet under it, the mangled chicken began to run in a small circle until it turned and ran straight towards me, screeching loudly, 'EEEEEK' as the blood pumped out of its mangled neck. 'Help!' I screamed, 'My Mother's Going To Kill Me!' I turned and made a bee-line run away from the chicken. And other than my screams, for the next hour, it was the last thing my relatives heard or saw of me, as I ran for my life into the cornfield. I could see the lot of them down the corn row, but I was afraid to come back and face becoming 'A Chicken' myself. But, you see, it wasn't their laughter that still sounds in my ears, it was the sight and sound of that chicken that remains fixed in my memory; as if it were yesterday that I  learned how hard it was to become a man." Another True Story. Love ya, Larry

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

'When You've Finally Had Enough Chicken'
LSS,
You have had some interesting experiences. I'm glad you shared this one. I help my folks with their chickens. I've not killed one though. I leave that to the hawks or coyotes as also the chickens get out of their chicken yard. Eggs are good too. I got my thourough lesson in killing a chicken.

[Samuel Dickens]

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to come by and read this most wonderful story. Well, it's a story that's wonderful for folks who're craving something golden fried, but not so much for chickens! In my view, rural life is best for young folks to grow up in, and this story certainly exemplifies that. Now, pass that plate of chicken.