My First Chicken Harvest

Historically it was commonplace, but not anymore. Where I live, ending the life of a creature I lovingly nurtured is a bit shocking. Even though chickens are famously good at producing meat, when people learn that I butcher my own birds I am often met with horror, disgust, or the sort of morbid curiosity that makes us stare at car wrecks while passing on the freeway.

Why?

The first of two questions I am typically asked is why I would want to do such a thing. Processing a bird is a fair amount of work, and raising one is even more so. There is also an emotional toll which is not to be neglected; even the mean birds that I despised in life collected their share of pity in death.

So here’s the truth: I butcher my own chickens because I’m sick of being disconnected from my food.

I have always sought out organic, healthy produce, complete with labels about humane treatment and environmentally friendly practices. I trust those labels. I believe they affirm what they claim, but the line between implication and legal certification is not always clear. After doing a little research into many food labels, I found myself dissatisfied.

For example, prior to research, in my head “organic” meant that the farmer had kissed the ground, stirred up some compost tea, and grown the most natural produce on the planet. Some farmers, I am sure, actually do that. But organic allows certain fertilizers, pesticides, tilling practices, and more which may or may not align with the consumer’s ideals. That doesn’t mean organic is bad. I only suggest that the average consumer probably doesn’t read every detail of the USDA’s Organic certification requirements before purchasing a pound of potatoes at the local grocery.

Labels are important since not everyone can know their farmer. But universal labels require great sacrifices. Farmers who want to show the public that they care have to abide by universal regulations that may not make much sense on the individual farm. Shouldn’t a farm in Virginia look different from a farm in California? Even in the same ecosystem, shouldn’t a chicken farm have different needs than the neighboring cattle ranch? Than the farm which keeps livestock as well as a market garden? Farming is tough, and profit margins can be very thin for a lot of farmers. I can’t see myself advocating for stricter regulations, and I despise the thought of pressuring someone I’ve never met to work harder while having no idea what sort of farming practices actually make sense for them. So I decided to raise my own meat birds.

I am happier eating my chickens than anything I could find in a store, but I can guarantee that no USDA organic inspector would pass my chickens as organic. Their first disqualification is my home-grown black soldier fly larvae feed. The larvae eat good, organic material, but I have no proof of this since some of the larva-feed I grew myself. So despite adhering to the truest spirit of naturally grown food, my chickens can’t be labeled organic. Knowing your farmer provides more insight into your food than knowing your label.

How?

The second question I am typically asked is how I butcher and process my chickens. Since most of the people asking this have no intention of killing birds themselves, I have to imagine this question appeals to our human fascination with dark deeds and meaty gossip.

For those of you who are interested in very technical and detailed advice, let me do the proper thing and acknowledge my inexperience. The best informational video I found to learn the steps of chicken processing is here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_lAkPyvSnA 

I butchered and processed three chickens for the first time in my life (and without help) after watching this video a few times. If I can do it, you can too. If, like me, you didn’t grow up on a homestead or farm and haven’t developed a sense of normalcy surrounding the death of meat animals, you may find the first time frightening. I did. I strive to be a good steward of the Earth and to respect God’s creation, so I was very fearful that my inexperience would lead to a suffering animal. It takes practice, but don’t be deterred.

The family, a friend, and two dogs on harvest day

The most important things I learned from my first butcherings:

1. Use an extremely sharp knife. A razor blade and exact-o knife worked much better than my sharpest kitchen knife.

   
   

2. Have help. Get people together to butcher with you. My entire family and a friend joined the big harvest day (big for me is 12 birds). This makes the job go faster, and makes the work fun.

   
   

3. If you use a hanging method, then get a kill-cone. I hung my birds by their feet from a rope rather than having a kill-cone, and this effectively made the butchering step require two people. For a few minutes after a bird dies, it’s muscles spasm and contract, causing it to flap about. It wouldn’t be such an issue if the spasms weren’t so violent; several of my birds broke their own wings post-mortem, which, even though the bird is already gone, was painful to see, and annoying to have to process afterwards. One person had to hold the bird’s wings against its body until the spasms ceased, while the other person did the cut. It was obnoxiously inefficient.

   
   

4. Use a plucker. Really. Borrow or rent one if you have to. I hand-plucked the first three birds I harvested, and while I am glad that I got the experience, I do not feel the need to pioneer-woman with chicken plucking ever again.