Today was a day. I spent my weekday in the usual way-hanging with kids, trying to engage them and encouraging them to invest in their own educations. All did not turn out as planned. The morning was relatively good until I faced a VERY unmotivated student. I reached down to my toes for inspiration, but to no avail. I got over it.
After school I headed to the farm for a little goat milking. Very little thought required, which is why I enjoy it so. Anyway, I was just driving up the long, picturesque driveway on my way home from milking when I got a text. It was from Billy. He's the strapping, young farmhand. I really should blog about Billy because he's an amazing individual, but I digress.
I ran into Shannon this morning at Stewart's. She works on the farm doing everything from milking to marketing. She informed me that they were going to be processing over 100 chickens that day and that they'd probably still be working on it when I showed up to milk. That was putting it mildly.
As I stated before, I was driving up the long, picturesque driveway on my way home when Billy texted me, "Come and help." They started the whole chicken processing thing at 9 a.m. It was now 5:45 p.m. and they were still going strong. Hmmm... what to do... what to do. It was one of those moments when you have to make the big decision... Do I pretend to have not gotten the text or do I do the honest thing? Being the honest type, I backed up the car and headed to the far reaches of the farm. Billy raised his hands in celebration when I got there. Not a good sign.
So I get out of the car, and there before me was a virtual tank of processed chickens in icy, cold water. "What do you need me to do?" I asked. "Help us bag them," they replied. Great! I can barely stomach cutting up boneless chicken and now I have to "man up" and handle raw, freshly butchered chickens and stuff them in a bag! Oooh... not good.
As I complained about this grizzly task, Rhonda asked, "Where do you think food comes from?" I'm thinking, "The store... duh!!!"
O.K. so I'm not a complete country girl, but I sure am trying. I mean really, it's not every girl who knows how to milk a goat... and with speed and precision to boot! In honor of the chickens who gave their lives to feed some of the families of the North Country, I give you this picture....
Rest in peace, Chicken.