This brings back memories of my growing up years. We would raise chickens at our house in Hunter (West Valley). Me and the other neighbor kids would watch as my dad and brother would go out to the coop and chop the heads off. We would all be awe struck watching those chickens still running around - but they had no heads. Then you would go to the basement to see my Mom and my Dad downstairs dipping the carcasses in hot, boiling water to loosen up the feathers as they would pluck all those chickens. I honestly can still smell that wet feather smell from this memory.
Coco, I love it! BC uses a large metal garbage can that he heats up on a grill over the fire pit... because we don't have a pot big enough for the turkeys!
This brings back memories of my growing up years. We would raise chickens at our house in Hunter (West Valley). Me and the other neighbor kids would watch as my dad and brother would go out to the coop and chop the heads off. We would all be awe struck watching those chickens still running around - but they had no heads. Then you would go to the basement to see my Mom and my Dad downstairs dipping the carcasses in hot, boiling water to loosen up the feathers as they would pluck all those chickens. I honestly can still smell that wet feather smell from this memory.
This brings back memories of my growing up years. We would raise chickens at our house in Hunter (West Valley). Me and the other neighbor kids would watch as my dad and brother would go out to the coop and chop the heads off. We would all be awe struck watching those chickens still running around - but they had no heads. Then you would go to the basement to see my Mom and my Dad downstairs dipping the carcasses in hot, boiling water to loosen up the feathers as they would pluck all those chickens. I honestly can still smell that wet feather smell from this memory.
ReplyDeleteCoco, I love it! BC uses a large metal garbage can that he heats up on a grill over the fire pit... because we don't have a pot big enough for the turkeys!
DeleteThis brings back memories of my growing up years. We would raise chickens at our house in Hunter (West Valley). Me and the other neighbor kids would watch as my dad and brother would go out to the coop and chop the heads off. We would all be awe struck watching those chickens still running around - but they had no heads. Then you would go to the basement to see my Mom and my Dad downstairs dipping the carcasses in hot, boiling water to loosen up the feathers as they would pluck all those chickens. I honestly can still smell that wet feather smell from this memory.
ReplyDelete