Lesson from the Farm

I have learned many lessons from our farm. Seeing as we butchered 18 chickens this morning (and by "WE" I am meaning Eric and the children...), I thought I would state some of the things our chickens have taught me.

1) I have said it before, and I will say it again... Never name your chickens after missionaries. It is almost impossible to kill and eat Gladys Alward, Jim Elliot, or Hudson Taylor.

2) Naming your chickens after Narnia characters is equally difficult. Tyrian, Tumnus, or Mr. Beaver (who was a chicken), are also not edible.

3) Don't let the children buy their own chicks. They will remember they spent $1.50 on Mop and Duster, even if they are 5 years old, and no longer producing eggs.

4) Don't let them get a name at all... the puffy headed roosters named Vladimir and Poofin WILL be eaten, despite the intensely creative names. The killing of them WILL produce ovarian guilt, however.

If you don't know what ovarian guilt is, that is the guilt you feel as a mom when you insist that the chickens who have laid only TWO eggs in two months must ALL DIE. Even if they are special pets. Dads don't have ovarian guilt. Moms do. But a line must be drawn somewhere, and if we don't start getting some eggs... they will all die. Ovarian guilt or not... those two eggs have cost us about $50 each.

We were smarter with our cows... their names were Supper and Burger. Gotta remember their purpose, you know.