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Culling old laying hens is not the easiest task on the farm. Heck, are there any easy tasks on the farm? (Shaye reflects… Shaye realizes that no, there aren’t any easy tasks on the farm… Shaye moves on with her life.). Heading into the thick of winter, if one has chickens, one must ask themselves:
Wash Eggs Like A Boss, Baby. Winter time is not a clean time on the farm. Just yesterday, as I was out throwing kitchen scraps to the pigs, I nearly face planted into the muck after my rubber boots got stuck in the deep sludge. There were slurping noises. And waving arms. And perhaps a
Homegrown chicken is a go-to ingredient on our homestead and, of all the amazing ways to prepare it, this mouthwatering dish and its zesty (freshly squeezed!) lemon sauce is our favorite.
Remember that beautiful chicken run that we built a few weeks ago? It’s still lovely. The honeysuckle is growing. The chickens are sun bathing. The gardens aren’t being eaten. But. But there are three…four…or five gangsters that refuse to play by the rules. They come out. I throw them back in. They come out again.
I may be no pro, but I’m at least somewhat an old(er…ish) hat at raising meat chickens this go round. This past weekend, we welcomed our fourth batch of meat birds to the homestead. Because Mama’s gotta have her chicken, man. I won’t say that I particularly love raising meat chickens. Fine. I’ll say it. Meat
I hate free range chickens. There. I said it. Let the stoning begin. But first, perhaps I should clarify. Let’s just say that I lived out in the middle of a seventy three acre pasture. In said pasture, there was nothing but native grasses, and perhaps one bovine. I lived in a hut with no