So, the story began . . back in March we bought 8 little pullets. They were all supposed to be girls . . grow up to be hens and lay us some nice big eggs!
One of those little pullets, Bertha, always looked different. She grew and she grew, and then one day, back in early June, she crowed. She was a rooster. She was huge! We didn’t want a rooster but having one couldn’t be too bad. The hens are real small. Egg producing chickens are way smaller than chickens meant to be meat birds.
Week before last, Bertha decided to do what roosters do with hens. He hurt two of them grabbing them by their necks with his beak and throwing them on the ground. That rooster definitely didn’t know how to treat his ladies!
Vince and I talked and we didn’t want any baby chicks from the Red Stars or the Production Red hens which were out there with Bertha. So, why did we need a rooster? Besides, I wanted chickens for eggs but also for pets. I was constantly having to watch to see where Bertha was and I hated going into the run when Vince wasn’t outside just in case Bertha got after me and I needed help.
Thursday when I went out to give the chickens water in the run, he ran up to me and tried to scare me. I am scared of him but I knew not to turn my back to run so I yelled at him and stood my ground and he walked away.
Friday morning I was out working in the garden and I heard a chicken squawking and realized Bertha had her down and he’d made her neck bleed so Vince and I decided it was time for Bertha to go. Vince checked with everyone at work to see if anyone wanted a rooster. Nope, everyone had more than they wanted. I asked my neighbor if she knew anyone and she called a friend or two and no one wanted a rooster.
Friday evening we discussed our options and decided we had to do what we had to do. In Missouri, we had a mean chicken and she kept pecking on the other chickens and causing chaos in the coop but one night, she grabbed my ear as I had my head in the coop talking with Ruby and that was the end of Lynn! Chad cleaned her and she stayed in the freezer for a year. I would have a little talk with myself and decide I was going to be a big girl and cook Lynn. I’d take her out of the freezer, get all squeamish, put her back in the freezer and after a year or so, she was freezer burned and got tossed.
This morning, first thing . . right after Vince inspected the spider bite on my leg . . the spider bite that happened Thursday night in bed (told you that was coming), we had this talk:
Vince: Are you going to cook him?
Me: I don’t know if I can. I could say yes but in all honestly, all I can be sure about is that I’ll try.
Vince: IF you cook him, can you eat him?
Me: I don’t know if I can. Right now I can’t say yes and I can’t say no.
(We were really making progress with that conversation!)
Then Vince was kinda getting huffy with me and he said “YOU wanted to live on a farm . . YOU need to learn to do this!”
Hmmm . . that sounded like a challenge if I ever heard it. My grandma would go out to the chicken yard, grab a chicken, kill it, clean it and we’d have it for dinner. I don’t think I got those genes!
I told Vince I would do my best but I didn’t want to see any part of it. In fact, I gave him a freezer bag and asked him to put the chicken in there and put it in the freezer. He had read on the internet what to do and part of what he needed to do was soak the cleaned chicken in ice water for 20 or 30 minutes. Where do you think that happened? In the kitchen!
I said to myself . . I’m going to do this no matter what! I’m going to prove to him that I can. I’m just that hard headed.
Dinner! Chicken! Bertha! I did it. I cooked it. I ate it. I wouldn’t let myself think about it while eating. If I think about it even now, I might need to run to the bathroom! I’ll get over it.
It was good! It was very good!
Roosters are normally tough but since this was a fairly young rooster, I wasn’t sure but I went ahead and put him in the pressure cooker with some seasonings. He wasn’t tough at all. And,
I ended up with 3 quarts and 1 pint of very nice looking broth. Bertha Broth is how I labeled the jars.
I wasn’t sure how Vince was going to feel about doing his part of getting the chicken to the table but he was fine with it and we’ve decided that next year, we’re going to buy some meat birds and raise them with the intention of being food. They won’t have names . . we won’t hold them and tell them bedtime stories . . this might all be a little too much too soon but for now, at least I did what I had to do and Vince even said he was proud of me. I feel like I’ve jumped a big hurdle and am one step closer to being a real pioneer wife!
Marla says
Oh Judy. I am proud of you. Although I have to be honest with myself and tell you that you are the better woman here. I actually felt a little squeamish just reading your story today from just my getting to know Bert over the past couple of months! My sister and brothers all were raised on the farm where this was everyday life. When I came along after the youngest was 17, (yes I was an “oops” baby), my parents just moved off the farm 2 weeks before I was born so I never experienced farm life. I wish they hadn’t moved. Now…. what about that spider bite?
Pat says
Oh….you are very brave to have done that. I’m sure I’d have trouble with it, too.
Jo says
Somehow, i knew where this post was going. It is part of farm life after all. Just don’t name them next time!
Patricia says
My daughter’s turkeys are named Christmas and Thanksgiving. The pigs are Ham, Bacon and Porkchop. One chicken who left the flock for the table early was Godzilla. You can guess why he got butchered!
Wann Hart says
Judy, I have a recipe for Rooster Sauce Piquante that is soooo good. The old Broussard Grocery in Westlake used to sell roosters. I cooked it all day and it was so tender, but rich tasting. Haven’t made it in many years.
Sheryl says
Ooh….would you share that recipe? We have a rooster that I’ve just about had enough of.
Mary says
Good for you guys. I know it was hard, but it was also necessary. The term “rules the roost” is not anything fictitious — roosters can be very aggressive, and getting slashed with a leg spur can really hurt, to say nothing of the danger of infection. I was five when I was attacked when my mother sent me out for eggs — that rooster met the same fate yours did.
Have you thought about ducks? I don’t remember them being such a menace.
Linda in NE says
You did good Judy. There’s nothing like nice fresh chicken that you raised yourself.
Dar in MO says
Congrats Judy. You have come a long way. I’m not sure I could do the killing and cleaning part, but the cooking part would be ok. Think of it as this was Bertha/Bert’s purpose in life. To provide food for a young pioneer family! 🙂
Diana in TX says
Good for you! Sounds like he was turning into a nasty big fellow, so better in the stew pot! the first Fall after we were married I was at the farm helping Galen’s Mom cleaning chickens for the freezer. None of hers were ever named so there was no problem doing what needed to be done.
Glenda in Florida says
I’m proud of you and Vince both! When I was 8 years old, we moved to a farm. After the first batch of animals, we learned never to name something that we might eat. We still named the breeding stock. I raised a couple calves and after taking the first one to the stockyards, I never had another steer. With the heifers I could take them to the sale barn,and tell myself that they were going to live a nice life on a dairy farm.
Linda Steller says
Good for you, Judy. I’m not sure i could do it, but if Bertha was being mean, well – he just had to go. Might as well not waste the chicken and that’s what he was bred for all along.
Nancy says
We had chickens when I was a kid. One of the roosters would find an upper nest and jump on your head when you entered the chicken coop. He went the way of Bertha, too.
Nancy says
I see it says there are comments, but I can’t see any.
Patti Tappel says
Now I know why I never got attached to the squirrels in the back yard. He shoots them early morning and they are fried and on the table that evening. Taste like chicken! And I never give them names, unless on is on my bird feeder . . .and that’s not a nice name.
LOL
Patti
loralie says
When we butcher a chicken, I find it easiest to put it straight into the crockpot, cook it overnight, then strip the meat from the bones for immediate use or put in the freezer.
Sara in AL says
You were very brave! Good going! My Mom (87 in a few weeks) tells me that her Mom would tell her, “If you want fried chicken for Sunday dinner, you better go out there and pick one.” She said that she did ’cause she liked fried chicken. Don’t know if I could do the same. Didn’t get that gene either.LOL Maybe saying a prayer, like the Native Americans did, would help. I understand that they thanked the animal for giving up it’s life so that they could eat. Seems like it’s that “Circle of Life” idea to me.
Marilyn says
Good for you! Another hurdle. And you know what he ate ’cause you fed him. Good idea not naming the ones who will grace your table. It’s a mind thing.
Jan Baethke says
You make my day! I just love how you share ‘things’ with all of us! The Bertha (s/b Bernie) Broth looka yummy. “Doodle-do”
Sheryl says
We got 3 roosters from the six Black Copper Maran chicks we bought a couple years ago. Mr. Big became chicken salad and I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. Barry became Barry & Dumplings and it was really good. Now Roux Roux is soon going to be Roux Roux Stew or something of the sort. I’ve had enough of that rooster challenging me. I carry my Cobra garden tool into the run with me and he’s encountered it a few times when he came at me. I’m sure the hens won’t mind.
Good for you for having Bertha for dinner!
Karin says
bravo! We had turkeys a few years back – and when it came butchering time, it was REALLY difficult! Those things are almost dog-like! They are SO inquisitive and they even guarded the yard. We did manage to cook 2 of the 4, but the other two I believe got freezer burned too. So, I totally feel where you are coming from! I have raised rabbits for almost 20 years, and there is only a handful I’ve ever butchered. It’s hard!
neen says
Good for you, Judy!!!! You are a better women than I!
I, once, had a neighbor who raised a beef critter in their big front yard. (they never had to mow.) His name was Sir Loin. They said he went down real good…
Judy Whitehead says
I have several roosters in the freezer right now from a friend who ended up with multiple roosters instead of hens. I couldn’t bring myself to do the butchering part, but a neighbor did for a portion of the meat, so it worked out for both of us.