If I Was A Guy, I'd Do It.

  I think I'm coming down with cabin fever. Actually, I think it's been setting in since September, but today I'm really feeling the symptoms. Folks, I haven't done a full, hard day's work since August. And I'm feelin' it. Sure, I stay busy, I find various projects to keep me somewhat engaged... But today I'm downright pining to move livestock to new pasture, milk a cow, and slaughter something (animal, that is). It's a cloudy, grumpy day outside and the walls of the house are beginning to feel like they're closing in. I worked outside during the morning; adding new plastic to the greenhouse, cleaning out the barn some more... But it's not enough. My body wants to ache from physical activity spent working with another living creature, and my brain is going ballistic from weeks and weeks without a really good project to puzzle over. I'm not exactly "bored", but I'll certainly say that I'm not accustomed to this slow pace of life. I miss outwitting pigs, teaching the heifer to lead, cleaning my milking equipment, and slaughtering. I've said that twice now. I admit, I really do have a hankering to get a knife in my hand today and slaughter something. Not exactly sure what's with that, but it is what it is. Earlier I was trying to read a book, but found that I kept having to read that same page over, and over, and over. Nothing was sinking in because my mind kept wandering to my old job that I used to have at the slaughter house. And I got to thinking about how much I missed the work. I don't regret my reasons for leaving that job, but I do miss the work. It was good, solid work that folks really appreciate, and I enjoy. Thinking about my old job led my wandering mind down the rabbit trailing thoughts of how fun it would be to own a mobile slaughtering unit (hey, there's always this gorgeous ride to consider, right? LOL. I'm 75% teasing on this one.), which led to finding and buying this cool looking book about a mobile poultry slaughter house (It's almost creepy how excited I am for this to come. I also have Joel Salatin's newest book coming, Jenna Woginrich's newest one on it's way, and one more book due soon... Yet I want this one more than any of them!!!), which then led that rambling mind to thinking about the Portable Plucker folks near me and what an awesome, lucrative gig that is for them, and then finally to the brand spankin' new slaughter house that opened down south in Brownsville (I still swoon over that pretty building, and how well they've set it up.). Yeah, my mind goes everywhere. You should try living with it for a day. *note much sarcasm*

  I believe the end result of all this mental wandering is that 1. I really miss slaughtering. And 2. this really seems like a good opportunity for anyone with the skill and stomach for it. Seriously! There is such a need for more processors; good ones. Especially mobile ones. Or at least folks who will rent out equipment, like what the Portable Plucker folks do.

 At the risk of ruffling some feathers, I'm going to make a statement that I normally keep to myself: If I was a guy, I would totally put myself in training to do this work. I'd be running after this idea so hard and fast that I'd put the Warner Bros. Roadrunner to shame (meep, meep!). But since I'm a girl, I've decided to stand back and try and keep a lid on this desire. Now, before y'all start huffing at me for sounding legalistic, or saying that there's no shame in a woman having her own career, or encouraging me to go for it anyway, allow me to explain. First off, this is merely MY conviction. I have no qualms with other women who have long term careers and whatnot; it's just not my personal cup of tea. It takes all kinds to make a world, and we need all these different people with their different tastes to make everything work. So this is mine. :) Okay, disclaimer is now over... I'm not actively pursuing a long term career because quite frankly, it gets lonely all by yourself. Farming alone is hard and I don't find it enjoyable (why do you think I bought a dog!?), running a slaughtering unit long term sounds just as lonely. Let's imagine for a moment that this crazy farm girl someday bumps into an equally crazy farm boy (remember? I'm a klutz; therefore, "bumping" into someone is perfectly legit in my case. And he'd have to be crazy too to put up with me and the fact that I like cows, bow hunting and know how to use a knife.). That'd be a dream come true if Mr. Right had a farm of his own, or at least liked the idea of going for it. Wahoo, I get to live on a farm! But my job wouldn't be to run the farm. I'd be backup, primarily doing the role of Farm Wife. And I'm okay with that. THAT is my long term goal. Call me old fashioned, but House Wife or rather, Farm Wife is long term goal. This farming gig which I've come to love so much is to keep me busy during these single years. Everything I've learned during these years will be handy in the future. I can milk cows, fix a vacuum pump, drive a manual truck, slaughter any animal, hunt, can, raise broilers, deal with customers, haggle with grain suppliers, and buy good quality hay (the gardening part is still a work in progress... *cough, cough*). If it came to where a second income was needed, then hey, I'm ready! I know what to do! But aiming for a long term career such as a mobile butcher (or a vet, or anything else) seems pointless to me, in my case (please notice emphasis; go back to disclaimer if necessary) when I would be giving it all up after the honeymoon. In the end, I get to be the brains, and he gets to be the brawn around the place (I kid. I wanna' drive the tractors too. Okaaay, I'm teasing again. He'd probably be both and I'd be the one wreaking havoc, bringing home new cows all the time, and annoying the stew out of him); meaning I'm in the background cooking up evil ideas that probably have some hole in them, but he'd be the one actually bringing home the bacon. There's no shame to keeping a house standing and raising a family, folks. That's my job. I've never been hugely keen on "stay-at-home dads" and "career moms". But again, just my tiny two cents with which you can do whatever you like with (meaning chuck it, or agree with it). But you know what, if Mr. Right needed a working partner for whatever reason, I'd be right there doing it (hey he could drive the semi and I'll use the sharp, pointy knives! Grand idea!). So if that means I'm an "employee" who does evening milking for 300 cows, or drives the tractor/combine all day long until harvest season is over, then fine. I'm good with that (as long as the tractor is green. I might have qualms if it's red or blue). The difference here is who's boss. Somehow I don't think the marriage would be as strong if I was the one running the 300 cow dairy and I told Mr. Right that his job around the place is to do what I tell him... ;)

  Now, where in the world was I going with all this? You see, my mind totally rabbit trailed and the above rant was originally not planned. Slaughtering. Yes, I was talking about slaughtering. If I was a guy, I'd consider it as a career. But since I'm not, I get the fun job of puzzling over how I can weave this interest into my life for a short term. I like a good mental puzzle, and this one has been fun to chew on during these rainy, quiet days before I leave. Who knows, maybe in the end I'll just do like the Portable Plucker folks and merely rent out equipment for other folks. I think even that would be enough...

  In the mean time though, I think I'm beginning to suffer from a serious case of cabin fever. And I've still got twenty seven days before I leave. Think I'll survive? ;)

Start Your Own Meat CSA

 

 A few months ago, I read about the neatest idea in one of my Acres USA magazine. The article was about this thing called a "meat CSA" and the story featured a farm in Kentucky that did this. By golly was I intrigued... I knew all about vegetable CSA's (which, by the way, stands for "Community Supported Agriculture". Click the highlighted words to read more about what this is, if you're not familiar with it), but always wished the idea could somehow be tweaked to make it work for meat. Raising meat is my specialty, and my passion; the only problem with it is that it involves a VERY high start-up cost. When a single beef calf costs $500 to $700, and broiler feed is almost hitting $800 for a ton (which will only feed 150 - 180 birds), well -- it can be hard to start a meat enterprise up. Compare it all to buying seeds, which are about $2 to $4 for a packet. Beet seeds are cheaper than lambs, no matter how you look at it.

 What I wanted/needed was something like a CSA... Customers would pay upfront; either a 1-month, 6-month, or 12-month amount, which would allow me some immediate income to not only buy calves, lambs, chicks, poults, and giraffes (you still awake?), but also give me some much needed income to pay bills and buy toothpaste and  socks. The idea is to spread the income out a bit, rather than having it all come in one huge swoop when harvest season rolls around.

  So when I read the article about that Kentucky farm, I blasted out of my seat and immediately bought the Meat CSA Guide that these farmers have so clearly laid out. It. Is. Amazing. I printed the whole thing out and regularly flip through it. I may have the farm on hiatus through 2014, but hey, when I pick things back up, this could very easily be what I decide to seriously look into starting.

  While reading through my guide for the one billionth time yesterday, it occurred that I should share this treasure trove of knowledge with y'all. You can even get the guide for free now, which blows me away. Not only are these farmers giving out every secret of their business, they're even willing to answer your questions (believe me; I peppered them with my fair share). I paid for my guide at first (they used to charge $10 for their wonderful booklet), but then when they changed their mind and switched to it being free, they sent me a second guide for no cost at all. That's it; I'm impressed. They do still have the option to donate money for the guide, which I like to see (as a fellow writer, I know how much it means to get some sort of payment for your work!), so here you go folks: Go get yourself an awesome guide on how to start your own meat CSA. And feel free to give those farmers a few bucks as a 'thank you' *hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.* Yeah, I'm trying to be subtle here.

 Clicking right here will lead you to the wonderful paypal button CSA Guide!

The Good Slaughter

I watched this video this morning and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was a good way to wake up and start my day. ;) This gentleman knows what he's doing with meat and loves what he does. Makes me miss the slaughtering line of work... I've always enjoyed that stuff.

Growth Spurts

Do y'all remember that little video I posted awhile back about the artisan butcher shop that's opening in my neck of the woods? Well, if you don't (or if you do, and want to see the video again), you can click HERE and time warp your way back real quick to see it.

Now, why am I asking you if you remember it? 

*Cough, cough* As of this morning, guess who is now a supplier for that shop? 

Yep, yours truly! Starting in July (hopefully; if not then, then August!), Goat Song Farm will begin supplying MEAT with pastured pork and pastured broilers!!! The broilers will be seasonal, but the pork will hopefully be year around. One nice thing about Oregon is that since we don't get snow here, or super cold temps (this year's coldest day was I think around 23 degrees?), we can pretty much just keep trucking along with the larger livestock outdoors. The owners of MEAT have also asked if I would be interested in supplying lamb, goat, or even duck, and while I like the idea of supplying lamb (very muchly so!), I'm not sure about the other two suggestions. I'd have to think about it, and do some math. 

Kyle and Amanda (owners of MEAT) came out to my stomping grounds today and we talked about my favorite subjects: animals, farming, and meat. We discussed heritage breeds, pricing, monthly numbers of animals, and all sorts of different topics while Gyp mischievously tugged and chewed at the end of his lead at my feet; looking more like some furry delinquent than a trusty farmhand. When our visit was over, we shook hands on the deal and verbally agreed on one thing: I'm in. GSF is experiencing a growth spurt, and I am beyond excited about this. The numbers are very doable, and I'll be able to slowly ease my way into it all. The hogs will be used to begin combating the ridiculously numerous blackberry stands, using Joel Salatin's methods for pastured pork. The broilers will follow along behind the ruminants in their traditional chicken tractors. The lamb may have to wait until next year... We'll see.

So that's my big piece of news for today. :) Growth spurts are a good thing. And something tells me I'm going to have a lot of stories to tell as Summer begins.

So. Crazy. Excited.

This is probably the most awesome thing to ever happen to McMinnville. :) I absolutely cannot wait until they open their doors!

Makin' Bacon

Pigs have really small hearts.

True fact.

I guess I had never thought about the size of a pig heart before... And then I couldn't believe how small it was when the butcher fished Mike's out. Make a fist with your hand; that's about how big the heart was. They were pretty big pigs; not as big as I wanted, but still a good size... And only a fist-sized heart to keep those porkers running? I thought it was interesting anyway. ;)

So yep, the butchers came, the butchers - ah - butchered, and then they left with two carcasses which will age for a week before being cut. All in forty minutes. I was in awe.

I had never met these two guys who were coming to deal with my hogs. I didn't even know where they were coming from. All I knew was that a total stranger in Dallas swore by them and told me that I absolutely had to use these guys if I was looking for a mobile butcher, and that I wouldn't be dissapointed. So I took the stranger's word and so far I feel pretty good about the decision.

I liked the butcher's sense of humor. :) Cheerful and at ease, he smiled and asked to see my hogs. I immediately felt comfortable with letting him take my Tamworths down and finish the job I had started. He and his working partner took a look around my humble pig pen, and then went to get their tools. It was time. 

Armed with a high-power rifle, and his partner with a knife, the two went back to where Mike and Sausage were. The butcher explained that he did his absolute best to take each pig down with one shot, and he would wait as long as needed to get that shot. Once a pig went down, his partner's job was to jump in and slit the jugular before the pig's heart stopped beating. 

I stood back and watched quietly.

Mike and Sausage were definitely patience testers. Used to human contact, they felt no reason to come and check the two intruders out, so they instead kept their heads down in the newest hole they were rooting up; blissfully intent on finding some small smackerel deep down in the cool depths of their composted bedding. I offered to get some grain to lure the boys where the butcher needed them, but he declined. He could wait, he said... He'd wait for the right moment. It probably only took five minutes before they got curious, but it seemed like a year. Mike lifted his head and looked at us, and that was all the butcher needed. The butcher's shot was uncannily accurate, and Mike went down with that one shot. The second guy stepped in and did his part; cleanly slitting the jugular right before Mike's body went into spasms. When shooting hogs and cows, there is ONE small spot that you have to hit if you want an instantaneous death. You draw an imaginary 'X' on the face. Ear to eyeball. And right in the middle of that X, just off center, is that one spot. 

Sausage was not bothered in the least by the sudden demise of his pal. The smell of hot blood excited him and he began looking for where the smell was coming from. Two minutes later, he too went down. 

The rest of the work went fast. The carcasses were hosed clean, and then the two men began working on skinning. They made it look so easy... I was envious of their little slaughtering rig and their wicked sharp knives. I leaned against the barn wall and quietly watched; only occasionally saying something, or laughing along with the butcher at something. He kept reiterating that it was 100% okay to ask questions if I had any; but being the quiet person that I am, I didn't have any to ask, save for how long they've been doing this and why they started; so I stayed quiet, enjoyed watching them work, and took mental notes of their methods. 

So, I do have to admit something... I may "enjoy" butchering/slaughtering, but no matter how many animals I do, the eyeballs always creep me out. Blood doesn't bug me, killing them doesn't phase me, gutting is no problem, but those eyeballs? Creepy. And once the hogs were were skinned, but their heads still remained on... Well, I tried not to look at that end of the carcass. Ever seen the eye of a pig? It looks like a human eye. Seriously. And with the head having been skinned too, it made a rather gruesome sight that took a couple minutes to get used it. 

Gore aside, I liked watching the butchers pull out all sorts of handy doodads to do their job. I think the coolest thing they pulled out was something that looked like a chainsaw and they used that little thing to zip right down the spine. *insert swoon* I've had to split a few carcasses before, but I always had to use a handsaw. It's slow, exhausting work. Made even more tedious by a slightly dull saw that had teeth too small for the job. -_- So watching them use their chainsaw deal had me smiling in envy. Now THAT'S a fun toy! 

Forty minutes. That's all it took. Mike and Sausage went from squealing on the hoof, to hanging carcasses that frankly looked nothing like a pig. The butchers packed up and I smiled at the simplicity of my morning. There wasn't even a mess for me to clean up. Not a single trace that they had been here. They took the carcasses back to their shop where they'll hang for a week or so, then be cut up and I'll go and pick up all that lovely meat. 

And I'm sure you've noticed by now that there aren't any pictures. :-/ I thought about bringing the camera out, but decided not to. This time anyway. Let's ease our way into this butchering stuff... I don't need any flack about graphic images right now. 

My little brothers who named Mike and Sausage told me yesterday that they want pink pigs next time. And their names have to be Bob and Bacon. I smiled and told them I'd see what I could do...

Not a bad gig, this hog stuff... I think I kinda' like it. :)

Tomorrow

I had chicken blood spattered all over my arms and skirt this afternoon, when a family member came running up with the phone in her hand. "It's for you!" She mouthed dramatically, and motioned me over. I was in the middle of butchering some chickens. Sigh... Did I really have to stop what I was doing? Guess so.

Turns out that it was the mobile butcher, calling to ask if we could reschedule the hog slaughtering from Friday to tomorrow morning. 

I fleetingly smirked at the irony of the situation as I spoke with the butcher while trying to rub dried chicken blood off my free arm. Two days in a row of slaughtering; I was game for it. I told him yes, and agreed to meet him in my driveway at 9am the next day.

Oh Mike and Sausage... You've been fun boys, but you're getting to big for me. It's time to go to freezer camp.

I haven't decided yet if I'll keep the camera handy tomorrow, but I'm sure I'll have stories to tell. :) This will be my first hog slaughtering, and I'm looking forward to it.

Bring It On

It didn't take long before I noticed a numbing sensation in my fingertips...

It was the beginning of December, and I was at work. I didn't know the exact temperatures outside, but I knew we were below mid-30's. It was cold. I was wearing three pairs of socks, leggings, pants, rain pants to go over the regular pants, two shirts, a lime green colored fleece sweater, my carhartt coat, and a hideous looking purple, knitted hat. But I had nothing for my hands. Could not wear anything on my hands...

In front of me, lying on a metal table that was slap-dashed together, was the carcass of a small goat. It had been butchered three days hence. Had been aging in a walk-in cooler since then. The meat was colder than the temperatures outside. And with the help of a co-worker (the only other female there at the time; bless her...) we had to turn this small carcass into forty cuts of meat. 

We had never done this before.

Watched videos, read books, and talked to others, we had done... But actually used a knife on a carcass? No. This was it. 

And frankly, I was excited about it. I had been looking forward to this for a few days now; had been anticipating getting to work with knives. And now we were doing it.

My fingers lightly traced the pattern made through the rib cage... Feeling the cold meat beneath each tip. The carcass looked like it should feel clammy and slimy. Instead it felt like satin fresh off the bolt... Smooth, sleek, and glossy. It reminded me of the first time I ever touched a snake. I expected it to feel slimy, like a frog, but instead found its reptilian skin to feel like silk. Such was the case with this goat. The muscle was a brilliant scarlet in color, but with a silver cast hovering over it; lending an iridescent sheen that at some parts whispered a shade of blue. Just faintly. The contrast between meat and bone was startling; blood red clashing with ivory white. 

Our first step was to break down the carcass into what's called the "primals". The big parts that get cut smaller and smaller into "sub-primals". The primals are split into three parts. From the shoulders upwards is the first one. The rib cage to the loin makes the second one. And the third is the back legs/rump. From these three you create the more recognizable cuts that you see in a store, or in your freezer. 

It didn't take long before my fingers went numb. They were cold. I worried that I would get clumsy with my knife and cause damage somewhere. But I sure wasn't giving up on this. I was enjoying myself. My knife was scarily sharp and I found immense pleasure in the feeling of sliding my blade down through the rib cage; meeting the spine, where I would switch to a meat saw and separate this primal. It was like that grand feeling where your scissors glide through wrapping paper; you get your knife just right and the meat falls away at your light touch. Don't saw. Don't hack. Go easy on it; slice it. Long, smooth strokes. That's right. Like that. Feel the move reaching from your shoulder to your fingers. Yes, I know they're cold. Mine are too.

Why was I finding such pleasure in this? In this gruesome task? I couldn't answer. I'm not into gory movies. I don't like seeing people hurt; I want to take their pain and bear it for them. I don't like violence and bloodshed. I'm a wimp when it comes to needles and pain. And yet, despite these contradictions, I was smiling while cutting the carcass of a goat up. I bet I would make a psychiatrist cry, trying to figure me out. 

My questions about this were only intensified as my friend walked up, and averted his eyes from the growing pile of meat cuts in front of me and my co-worker. He had just finished with harvesting vegetables in a field farther on the property and was about to take his lunch break. I grinned at him not wanting to see the carcass. Grinned that I was enjoying this, and he was not. I mischievously offered him my knife as he passed me. "Wanna try?" He did not. And then proceeded to leave me with my co-worker as we finished up. Was I wrong to enjoy this so much? I felt a touch of guilt that I had even wanted to do this. Felt a touch of envy that my gentle friend did not feel a desire to do this, and here was I was, up to my elbows in it. 

I got to the fun part in butchering: filleting the ribs, leaving a boneless cut of meat that looked good enough to eat. (Oh wait.) It took a couple tries before I found a rhythm. Slip my knife beneath a rib and slide it down to the spine... Use my finger tips and ease the rib out before giving it a boisterous CRACK! with a downward move that cleanly tore the rib right off the spine and away from the meat. Oh boy... I grew to love hearing that crack. Loved it that I was the only one here who could do it. Loved that I could so neatly get all the meat off each rib and not leave a single splinter on the spine. Fine. I plead guilty to being gory and gruesome. This was awesome. 

I am an omnivore that relies heavily on meat in her diet. I love my fruits, veggies, and grains, but nothing can compete with animal protein. I am an individual who can't seem to keep her iron levels up on her own. My energy levels flag easily. I rely on meat to keep my motor going. Rely on that powerhouse of protein, iron, and energy found in muscle and fat. As we cut that meat up, I started craving it... Somebody fire up the propane stove in the break area, I wanted meat. Medium rare, if you please. 

When we finished cutting, we both began wrapping the cuts in butcher paper. We had gotten 43 cuts of meat. Many of them we had invented off the tops of our heads and creatively named there and then. We used to word "roast" a lot. ;) I used a fat permanent marker to write the name of each cut onto the paper. My cold fingers causing only slight problems when I needed to write an 'O' or an 'S'.

I loved this. I loved that we had just created 43 cuts of high quality food for people. This was meat that had a name, a face, a story. I had done it justice. I had used it wisely. The goat had died quickly and humanely, and every part of it had been used. I feel a mix of anger and indignation when I think about the animals slaughtered at the huge slaughterhouses (the ones you can't take your personal animals to.).Often killed inhumanely, the meat is terrible, there's so much waste, artificial dyes are added to make the meat look red... This is not what meat is supposed to be. And it irks me. I love meat. But I want it to be good meat. I have a hard time explaining this. Have a hard time putting this into words. But I can feel it. And I know that to me, butchering feels "right" to me. I love this because I am taking the quality into my own hands. Who knows, maybe butchering is in my blood and I don't know it yet.

We finished. And were told that we would do a lamb next week that would be twice the size of this goat. I snuck a glance at my friend and smiled at his grimace. He finds pleasure in pulling weeds and harvesting vegetables, whereas I find such a thing tedious and patience-testing. It seems I'm comfier with a cleaver in my hand after all...

A lamb next week? Bring it on. Dibs on filleting the ribs.

I Had An Idea

So in case you hadn't noticed by now, I dream big. You probably came to that conclusion some time ago, but I figured I should throw it out there for those who are new, or hadn't caught onto that fact yet. Hehe. Sometimes my plans work out well, sometimes I learn what not to do, and sometimes I find that an idea has to go on a backburner for awhile, even though I may not want to.

Such was the case with one idea that I've been holding close for a few months now.

Back in October, I watched a beautiful video by the Farmstead Meatsmith about cutting up a side of pork. If you haven't seen that video yet, I would highly recommend watching it (click the second highlighted part of the previous sentence). Watching Brandon do his work, in the way that he does, was absolutely inspiring to see. He takes what most people see only as a gruesome and gory task (slaughtering/butchering) into something beautiful. This guy is more than a butcher. He's an artist. And one who knows what his passion in life is.

I watched all the Farmstead Meatsmith videos that I could. I read his entire website over. This guy was quickly ranking himself among my heroes in life.

A couple weeks after watching that first video, I brought home my first pair of pigs. They were only 10 weeks old, but I already knew who I wanted to butcher them.

I had an idea. 

I wanted the Farmstead Meatsmith to come out and teach a butchering class to a group of locals, using my two hogs.

Two months ago, I contacted Brandon and his wife about my idea. Would they be willing to travel all the way down here to my neck of the woods to teach a class, and butcher a pair of Tamworth hogs? They were more than willing. They were excited by the idea and gave me some dates to choose from. It looked like April 12th and 13th were going to be our days. It was going to be a 2-day event, and folks would get to learn how to slaughter a hog, and then everyone would get to learn hands-on how to cut a side of pork up. I was so excited about it all that I was fairly giddy. Dairying may be my top interest in life, but butchery has an extremely close second-place in my heart. Something about it just feels right to me; working with raw meat, making it into edible cuts and providing high quality protein for people. 

Then disaster struck. My cow got sick and then died. Leaving me with vet bills to pay, and a sudden lack of a way to pay my butchers. I had to call the event off... I will be using a normal butcher this time, who will do the job quickly and cheaply, but it won't be the same.

All is not lost though... I told Brandon that perhaps we can resume our plan in the fall. I'll have more hogs to butcher by then, and perhaps I'll have the funds to bring the Farmstead Meatsmith down. I sure hope so. I don't give up on an idea easily, that's for certain. 

Conflicting Desires

I am a strange bird. Most of the time I can't even figure myself out.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have always loved animals. I had countless stuffed animals, the only books I got from the library were non-fiction animal books, I dreamed of putting a horse in the backyard, I could tell the difference between a Norfolk Terrier and a Norwich Terrier from a distance, I did mounds of livestock projects in 4-H, I rescued all the animals I could find (oh wait, I still do), and at the age of 17 I decided I wanted to be a farmer so I could work around animals all day.

Nowadays I have an ever increasing desire to slaughter animals.

An exercise I routinely try to consciously do is really take notice of what I'm reading. When I pick up an agriculture magazine, I try to note what gets my attention first. Why do I read what I read first? After years of doing this, I find that I always go for livestock articles first, then horse power articles next, everything else comes after that and gardening articles are very rarely touched. I'm a terrible gardener. 

For the past 6 months I've noticed an interesting shift in my thinking. I didn't even realize it until just recently. When I read through my Ag magazines, newsletters and what-have-you, I'm finding that if there is an article of any sort that has to do with livestock processing (i.e. slaughtering), that's the first thing I read. If I see something online that has to do with a newly opened butcher shop, or a meat cutter new to the area, I always click and read it.  

It wasn't until the meeting on Saturday that I think it struck me just how much this strange work intrigues me. Someone brought up the fact that there aren't very many places to take our livestock to be processed here in the West Valley (I believe there are two places: one for poultry/small game, and one for everything else), and that person instantly had my full attention. Some folks talked about the area needing more butchers and all I could think of was, "Yes! I would LOVE to help with that!" For the rest of the day, whenever someone mentioned having more local processors, or anything related to that, my ears would always prick. 

This realization caught me by surprise. I am a huge animal lover (having 105 animals on my property right now can be something of a testament to that fact...), always have been, and always will be. Why this sudden desire to get back into the slaughtering business? Last year I worked at a poultry processing facility for a few months, and I have to admit that I really did enjoy the work. It was extremely physical, yes, and I came home every day freezing (it was almost winter), my hands/feet numb, and exhausted, but it was satisfying work. It was good knowing that these animals that came through were quickly and properly dispatched (i.e. "killed"), and in a very short amount of time we had what was now food. It was a great learning experience too, getting to compare all the birds that came through; I would ask customers how they fed and cared for their poultry and took note of how each feed and lifestyle affected the quality of the meat. It fascinated me to no end seeing the difference between corn/soy fed birds, pea/camelina fed birds, and totally free-ranged birds. It has helped me know how to raise my own animals for the best meat.

I am an animal lover, but I am also a meat lover. Two years ago I went on a meat fast for an entire month, and let me tell you, that was the hardest thing I have ever done, abstaining from meat for 30 days. I want meat, but I want it to be good meat. I want to know that the animal only had one bad day, that it was processed properly, that I have that best cuts possible out of the animal, that it was aged properly, and that it is everything good meat should be. I'm not paranoid about bacteria when I say I want to KNOW all this stuff, I say it because I'm a quality freak who wants the best, and wants everyone else to have the best. 

I am an animal lover, and I'm a strange bird. I love the cows and then I want to slaughter them. I read books like Black Beauty and Hope Rising, and then flip open my favorite copies of Good Meat, and The River Cottage Meat Book. I have conflicting desires here and I can hardly figure myself out. 

So who knows where all these wacky thoughts will lead... Maybe I'll apprentice myself to an artisan meat cutter, or maybe I'll get a job at a small processing facility again, or maybe I'll just relax, take a step back, and simply keep on processing my own meats for personal use. I don't know where exactly this is all going, but these are just some thoughts that have been swirling around in my head for awhile now, and it has become a blog post. 

And now I'm hankering for some bacon...

It's That Time Again

Time to get ready for chickens.

Or, more appropriately, broilers.

What started out as a simple, "Oh let's scale back and just raise 50 birds this year." Turned into, "We're thinking 100-200 chickens and some turkeys!"

Oh good gracious, we're nuts.

But we're doing it! Come to think of it, I'm not sure where this "we" is coming from... Seeing as I'm the one who takes care of the birds, keeps contact with customers (er, patrons), gets the details of butchering figured out, and makes sure that the whole thing doesn't suddenly collapse mid-way through the adventure.

But to keep in the spirit of "we", I shall now claim that I'm referring to "Me, Myself, and I". We make a pretty good trio. ;)

I'm looking forward to getting the little fluff balls, and seeing how many new customers we will get! I always love meeting new people who are of like mind! And as mentioned, yes, we are shooting for 100-200 chickens, and some turkeys. I don't know how many turkeys yet, but so far we have 5 reservations put down. I'll be implementing a lot of Joel Salatin's methods this year, but will also be implementing some of my own...

Buying feed is usually the biggest headache, but I am so grateful that we seem to have settled nicely with a feed mill that's a couple hours south from us. Their prices are a lifesaver, and are allowing us to competitively price our organic chickens at $2.80 per lb. And the feed itself is organic, locally grown, no soy, no corn, and no GMO's. Our birds grew great on this feed last year, so we will use it again this year!

And frankly, I'm excited to try the turkeys out. A lot of folks tell me just how horrible their turkeys were, but then other folks say how they just loved their turkey's sweet temperaments. So I guess we'll find out which side of the fence I'm on. Hehe. I've never raised turkeys before, but have always wanted to, so I made an executive decision that we (see, there's that "we" again) are going to offer Thanksgiving birds this year! I briefly thought about raising a heritage breed, but to be honest, I'm very wary of them. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for conserving rare breeds! But you have to remember that I used to work at a slaughter house, and we had SO many dark feathered, and heritage turkeys come through that I soon disdained the very sight of them. Those birds are so hard to pluck that it's not even funny. I spent hours with a small, metal picker, trying to get every last little black feather off of those birds, and then for all that trouble, the heritage breeds only weighed out to 6-10 lbs. If I have to work that hard, can it please be something like a 40 pounder? Sheesh. So I'm being naughty, and raising the Broad Breasted Whites. Big, white, gorgeously easy to dress, tasty birds. Maybe someday I'll raise some heritage breeds, but not this year... Not this year. 

Is anyone else raising chickens and/or turkeys for meat this year?

Oh, and if you're in our neck of the woods (Willamette Valley, OR) and you're interested in some down-right good food, you can see our Craigslist ad for our chickens and turkeys by clicking HERE.

A Good Feeling

One thing I love in life is that nice feeling I get when putting food up. Whether it's homemade bread into the freezer, canned foods that we have worked on over the summer, now going into the pantry, or homegrown meats going into the deep freeze. Ever felt that way before? It's sort of a "Come what may; I am prepared" feeling. I always smile when putting that food away for future meals. It's a good thing. 

Today's work consisted of, ahem, *harvesting* the meat rabbits. I find that the word "butchering" bothers some folks, so I stick with the slightly more discreet term of 'harvesting' for sake of courtesy. 

Now, I really don't like harvesting animals. Believe me, I don't. I am an animal lover right down to my toes, but I'm also a carnivore. And I'm a carnivore who feels convicted to take part in the responsibility of knowing where my meat came from, how it was raised, and then how it was processed. I just feel that if I'm going to take part in eating meat; in eating another living, breathing creature, I want to take full responsibility for it from start to finish. If you have never raised your own animal for meat, and then butchered it yourself, let me tell you something: It will change you. Eating meat from the grocery store is a mindless act; you simply consume it, not knowing any of the animals history. Eating an animal that you raised yourself gives you a sense of pride and self-sufficiency. But raising and then processing your own animal will give the ultimate feeling. It's a mix of pride and humbleness. You know the entire story. You see before you on the plate what was once a black rabbit with a white blaze, who's name was Felix. You'll say to yourselves: "My goodness that rabbit could jump high... Remember that day he escaped and we let him stay loose for two whole weeks? He dug tunnels through the entire rabbitry floor, and made such a mess of things... But he never strayed far." Good ol' Felix. 

There's pride in knowing that he was a happy creature, and lived a good life. But oh the humble feeling when you see him on a plate. No longer looking like a rabbit... There's a feeling of respect too. You took his life, now it's only fair to honor what was taken by eating him. It's a dance of death and life that has gone in circles for hundreds and hundreds of years. This is just the way things are. Perhaps you are a vegetarian, or a vegan, or something else. That's fine with me. I certainly have no qualms with folks who have such a strong measure of self control. I'm hopeless... I love meat. But my hat is off to you who have chosen a different path in life than mine. 

I didn't finish harvesting all the fryers (term for a young meat rabbit) today. Poppet, that annoying brat sweet darling of a Nigerian Dwarf was continuously getting in my way, escaping from the pasture, and otherwise making a muck of things. So the majority of my day was spent not dealing with rabbits, but running down a roly poly excuse for a goat and trying to keep her in one place. I was tuckered before I had hardly started! But I got enough fryers done today that I can easily finish tomorrow or Saturday. So it works out.

I came inside the house to cut the fryers up into pieces, wrap them into nice, neat packages, and then put them in the fridge to cure for 24 hours. They are sitting there quietly now... Little square packages that hardly resemble a rabbit. I looked at those packages and felt that nice feeling wash over me. 

Come what may. I am prepared.

It's a good feeling.