I was on the phone with Celtic Sif last night. She'd just returned from a city trip with son Thor, to St. Petersburg (in Russia) and waxed lyrical about the Hermitage. “The artwork was breathtaking,” she said, “but the windows! I wanted to cry...” My enquiring mind wanted to know what it was about the glazing could bring on a bout of tears. I learned that the Hermitage has been lovingly restored, but for the windows. Unlike other art musea in the world, they didn't spring for tinted glass and the Rembrandts are treated to full frontal sun. This didn't sit well with her.
We talked a little more about this and that, then out of the blue she asked me, "Have you ever killed a chicken?"
I'm still sans enhanced hearing, so I figured she couldn't possibly have asked if I ever killed a chicken. I apologized for my deafness before asking her to repeat the question.
She said, “I want to know if you know how to kill a chicken.”
“I'm sorry Celtic Sif, but it sounds like you're asking me if I know how to kill a chicken...my ears, you know....”
“Well yeah, have you ever killed a chicken?”
Oh God. The mafia thing again. My grandpa was a mafioso but he just ran the numbers, or at least that's what I've always been told. Not all mafiosi are hitmen.
Well, it turns out that our friend, the Hippie Chick, who keeps chicken in her back yard (much to the chagrin of her bourgeois neighbors) has a pullet that needs a little shove off this mortal coil. The poor thing is suffering and Hippie Chick doesn't want to shell out the 20 euri to have the vet put it down.
“I've been googling all day, “ she continues, “there are lots of methods, I figured you might know the best way.”
For the record, I have never killed a chicken, but I know how it's done.
“I told you before, my grandpa was a numbers racketeer not an enforcer ...Well look, I've got a good meat cleaver (which I use for making veal cutlets) but I wouldn't give the bird the chop. The body tends to run around the yard, lots of feathers and blood, it gets really messy. I'd go with wringing its neck, but I'm not doing it. Maybe you could grab it by the feet and knock it's head against the garden wall...Are you really going to kill the chicken?”
“Yep.”
I blame it on her Viking roots. The Viking red eagle, I'm told represents lungs the Vikings used to yank out of their (still living) victims while on a rape and pillage...Maybe my friend the art lover has untapped resources of ruthlessness. However, I'm thinking she's not really going to kill the chicken; she got misty when Harry Potter died. I could kill the chicken, if we were going to eat it, but we aren't, so I'm not going to kill the chicken. Maybe I'll bike over there for the execution this afternoon to show solidarity. Maybe I'll bring tissues and valium and a bottle of single malt.
In early light of this morning I'm hoping the poor bird will have died in its sleep overnight.
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Crossposted from my blog at WP. I'm trying not to do too much of that but I'd written this for OS, couldn't get in, so I posted it at WP, then I could get in to OS..yaddayadda.
My 6' Redhead wife just gives them the hairy eyeball and they die on the spot. I think you have to be a witch also to do it that way.
Poor thing would have it's head chopped by the chicken man (sorry!) who, holding it by the feet would toss it into boiling water to bleed out. A minute later out it would come and then be subject to the chicken feather plucking machine - a rotary sort of thing which beat the boiled feathers off. My brother worked there as a kid! Hey, a job is a job!
Voila! Fresh chicken!
:-) / r
So here's how to go about a quick and efficient euthanasia of a member of the fowl family.
1) First - catch the chicken. Not always easy since chickens have perfected the art of telepathy and always KNOW when you've selected them.... and why!
2) Open the wings until you can grasp them in one hand up near the body of the bird. No, this doesn't hurt the bird; they can open their wings until they touch all by themselves, when they want to.
3) Place head and neck on a firm chopping block. Yeah, they wiggle around a bit but if you've got a good grip on their wings you can hold them steady fairly easily.
4) Strike neck sharply with cleaver, machete, or hatchet. Head will detach. Take care that your hand doesn't.
5) Toss body of chicken on the ground. It will sometimes run around until the body gets used to the idea of not having a head. Then it will fall over and be still.
6) Pick up bird when it stops moving. Tie cord around feet and hang upside down for about 20 minutes to let it bleed out. Or just bury it if it's old and you don't want it for dinner. Bury head. Leave cord tied to feet.
7) If chicken is to be the guest of honour at your dinner, drop into a large pot of boiling hot water for about 10 minutes. Let cord hang over the edge of the pot. You will use this cord to remove the bird from the pot without putting your hands in the hot water.
This hot water dunking will allow the feathers to easily be pulled out. Some tiny, wispy pin-feathers will remain. Burn them off with a candle or lighted, rolled-up piece of paper.
8) Give chicken its last bath then prepare it for the pot.
Easy eh wot?
;-)
.
Both my grandmas were expert chicken executioners. One utilized the messy, feathery "fly-up-on-the roof without a head" chopping method, while the other twisted their skinny necks like an organ grinder.
Love the Georgia Satellites video, too!
Robust women, they were, back when people wore so many different hats.