I was far more relieved that I wouldn't have to stick my head inside the chicken tractor one more time, sliding on chicken poop and banging my head on the sharp corners. Let's not forget to mention the multiple times that the chickens decided to shake as I entered - spraying me with wet chicken poop. I managed to close my mouth on most occasions. Then there was the horrendous time that I slid on chicken poop in my Crocs, like a giant slip and slide - ending in a heap of slippery stinky chicken poop.
So, when the time came to load them up for their final journey, I have to confess I felt a bit elated that our time together had come to an end. It was a long 9 week relationship.
Most of them came in at about 6-7 pounds, and as we savoured a freshly roasted bird last night I did pause for a moment and thank the bird for giving me such a delicious meal.
It was a short bittersweet relationship.
I suppose this was a bit like a rite of passage, a chance for me to prove that I am a real farm girl. I can raise up a meat hen, send it to market and enjoy the fruits of my labour.
Yee haw. I have arrived.
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