We got two factory type, white turkey chicks in March.  Paul began raising them, Thanksgiving and Christmas, next to his armchair.  How he inprinted upon them!   Once freed to the 20O foot back yard that they shared with an apple orchard and our four hens, they continued to follow him about and whistle at him, habits begun inside our home.  They have grown very fast and are ready to butcher even now in July.  Next year, we will try Heritage Birds, since they have not been bred to gain weight so quickly.  How I look forward to the holiday season. I have not eaten turkey in many years.  However, Thanksgiving and Christmas accompany us and we know we will miss them, that is, until we consider their voracious appetites.

I miss my friendliest of hens.

Cadillac, you refuse your perch

Cadillac, our oldest hen, last of six siblings we first warmed, watered and fed, you slid under a waxy cultivar and stayed there not to experience this season’s molt. You were the majestic one, grander than other birds, and heavy and perfect in your stillness, one leg dressed in crimson leaves, another stiffly placed under your breast. Hey, Cadillac, why have you refused your perch during these evenings of cyclic change? For last night was not the first, cold, twelve hours that you did not climb to survival with your flock. Had I brought you in and held you, might you have chosen another season?

We now have four male (we think) rabbits and after feeding them daily over a year, they are so gentle and trusting. We use their lovely manure and do not feel enough hunger to continue butchering them.

Hens without tail feathers, rabbits dug their way to freedom

As has happened before, our silly hens have left their tail feathers and lovely crowns strewn about their yard. Who knows why they give up their down just as the short days threaten cold and darkness. Is it evidence of their tropical origins? Is it to prepare for even warmer plumage for the coming months? Or is it a protest against the darkening days that keep them pent up? Well, this weekend, they enjoyed bright days and followed the light where it was brightest, venturing far from the henhouse and tree coverage to luxuriate in LUZ.

We still have not been able to butcher Mr. Gentle. He is too tame to kill. Anyone want a sweet California White Rabbit? His siblings dug themselves free from their area, though they mostly elect to stay near the warren of their babyhood. Their father freely enters to visit them, but Uncle Scruffy, the submissive rabbit, has not. We don't know their sexes. Rabbit daughters may mate with their fathers but not their brothers. We watch and hope all our rabbits are males.

My son, Forrest, offered to kill us a rabbit for our dinner.

We are now down to five bunnies and will leave it to fate whether we let exclusively males continue to roam the larger yard, somewhat free, or to continue hosting births of kits. I say this because sexing rabbits is a challenge. Of the five remaining, we will allow the two adult males to live as well as one youngster, whether male or female. This leaves us with the task of killing two rabbits. Sadly, our original adult female fell to predation one month ago. Females are difficult to raise in the yard, due to their digging. It is harder to give them freedom and shortly after their young are born, the bunnies can hop anywhere, tiny as they are. So the mothers and young must be confined. Adult males, on the other hand can roam a large area, exercising plenty, foraging like their wild cousins, and drop their lovely pellets, helping our soil. Were we to have only male rabbits, we would have the option to cease with both killing and confining. Paul does not enjoy it. I refuse.

But, anyway, Forrest, brought in a rabbit last night, claiming he would do the dirty deed. Upon following his Dad's instructions, "Calm the rabbit, stroke it. Place its ears over its head. Then when it is fully relaxed, whack it over the head with...," Forrest only got to the part of placing its ears over its head, no further. Having bonded with the docile creature, he made a warren out of his bathroom downstairs. All his bravado and no willingness to kill. Now we have an indoor rabbit!

In raising "meat" rabbits, I have learned that it is hard to provide entirely humane conditions while raising livestock. Though I remain critical of the meat industry and still believe we must take local control of our food sources, I understand better the cruel measures taken in the mass production of protein. Hens are easy to raise in our back yard, but we do not kill our hens. Rabbits challenge.

We have not learned to kill; it is not natural for us. While he finds the butchering fascinating, Paul dreads the intimacy of the kill, and Forrest lost heart. I still have no hunger for meat. I only ate the parts of three rabbits out of respect for all the energy given to placing them before me on the plate. While a responsible act, eating these rabbits, it is not one I savor. The yielding nature, the appealing softness and the uneven and responsive ears of rabbits provoke sighs rather than hunger pangs.

I implore others to really consider what they consume. Nearly all that we take, not just meat, has a story, partly a cruel one. In this season of THANKS giving and so much need for resources by so many creatures, we would do well, to not just be thankful but to take far less as a daily discipline, a daily meditation.

Lean times now that the light lessens.
The hens,so connected to their sun, offer half as many eggs.