Raising Chickens for Meat: Do-it-yourself Pastured Poultry
(Page 2 of 6)
June/July 2009
By Gwen Roland
By the end of May, our Georgia weather was unseasonably hot. Even in the shade of the big hickory trees, the chickens looked so uncomfortable that I set out box fans in the afternoons. The birds jostled for position in front of the fan blades, little combs and wattles flapping in the breeze. Even though none of mine developed the leg or heart problems that can come from growing so fast, they were ready to lay it down by the time we picked a slaughter date.
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Dispatching our combined flock of 20 birds took less time than we expected. It was 8 a.m. when my husband, Preston, and I arrived at Jim’s farm with our little flock. Jim already had two homemade killing cones nailed to trees, a large pot of water heating over a propane burner, and a clothesline strung between two oaks as a plucking station. He had worked in a commercial chicken processing plant as a youngster, so he taught the rest of us how to process birds according to standard food and safety guidelines.
After everyone had an opportunity to try all the tasks, the most efficient process became for Jim to behead, scald and hang them on the clothesline. His wife, Jayne, and I plucked — by far the most time-consuming part of the process. A tarp under the plucking station collected the feathers for easy removal. Plucked birds were placed in a large plastic barrel filled with cold water. Next stop was the evisceration table. Then each bird was placed in a cooler packed with ice.
By 11:15 a.m., all the birds were on ice. A recycled feed bag held the entrails, feet, heads and feathers with room to spare. It was three hours from start to finish, but the actual processing time was closer to two hours — Jim and Jayne had spent part of that time teaching the rest of us how to complete each step safely and thoroughly.
Fall Flock
I wasn’t planning on raising another flock anytime soon, but in mid-August one of my Rhode Island red layers went broody. I was curious as to whether this hen could take the worry and work out of raising meat chicks through the brooder stage, so I ordered some Cornish cross chicks for her. She accepted each one of the peeping fluffballs, stretching her wings wider and wider trying to cover them all. She taught them to forage in the garden, and protected them from being pecked by the other layers.
When the chicks were 7 weeks old, I hosted a second chicken harvest. This one was easier for all of us because we knew what to expect.
Hearing about our satisfaction, more local foodies have asked to join us this year. Some families would like to raise birds, but can’t bear the thought of slaughtering them. They are planning to team up with others who can slaughter but lack the experience or facilities for raising chickens.
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