The King is Dead... Long Live the King

It is with a certain amount of sadness that we report the passing of 4 of our roosters. Not by freak accident or passing predator - Dad stretched their necks.

While Dad is able to perform the execution, it is with sadness rather than glee. The thing is, we had 3 of our 8 surviving hatchlings turn out to be male, plus we were given one, resulting in 5 roosters in 1 coop. This is a bad situation for any chicken population. We waited until they were big enough to eat (by which time they had all started crowing together first thing - and I mean 5am - in the morning). Culling was therefore necessary.

Dad had not bothered to name or build a relationship with the new hatchlings knowing their fate would be the dinner table, however, regretably the decision was taken that the King rooster for the last 3 years should go, to make way for new genes in the gene pool. Dad felt genuinely sad about this one - but he had a good innings, and sired a fair few hens and competing young roosters. He is now crowing in the chicken afterlife.

You certainly have more respect for the meat you eat when you have to kill it yourself.

The carcasses were taken to a YM activity where Steve P showed us how to skin (because it is tidier than plucking) and gut them. Dad let someone else prepare the "King" and someone else will be eating it. We did however keep 2 of the un-named birds ourselves and will report back on the comparison between home grown and shop bought in a later post.