tastes like chicken

We're officially a farm. (Does that make us farmers?)

Just finished up butchering the last of the chickens today. And we sold 10 of them. We had a regular assembly line going. Hubby chopped heads, wings and feet off and removed the rather disgusting innards. The boys rinsed the birds off and took turns bringing them to the house, where I cleaned them further, weighed them, butchered them and bagged them.

Not an entirely pleasant process - I'll spare you the really gross details, but will say that I think eating the meat might be a bit harder than I thought - at least harder than some random chicken I bought at Cub Foods.

Once you've had to cut apart wings, legs, thighs and the hardest part (the breast), it's a bit difficult to look at the meat the same way. To be clear, this isn't because I feel some remorse over killing an animal for food, nor is it that I considered these clucks pets.

But rather, it's more just the grossness of it all. Blood, guts, fat and having to cut into the meat to separate the pieces just isn't so appetizing. I'm not in the mood for chicken, let's just say.

Strangely, none of this seemed to affect hubby. He was ready to get the grill fired up and make a meal of it. Maybe after all the images in my head are replaced by paint colors or yarn samples, then I'll be able to pull one out of the freezer for supper - in about a month. Or better yet, I'll have hubby cook it instead. Hopefully it'll taste like...chicken.