Last Saturday was a busy day, as Nathan, Caleb and I, along with many others, butchered around 150 broiler chickens. Our friends, who are much farther along in their pastured poultry regimen than we are (ours may forever be in the planning stages, especially now), did all the labor involved with growing the birds, and all we had to do was pay a very reasonable cost and be available on butchering day. Who could resist a deal like that?
Many thanks to the Spragues for this opportunity! While the work itself was not “fun,” working together was.
And for all you Joel Salatin wanna-be’s, I’m posting some pictures of their fantastic set-up. (click on pictures to enlarge)

Mighty little men heft headless birds to the next station---the hose-'em-down-real-good-and-scrub-off-all-the-poo station

Then, after a dunk in hot water (BIG pot on propane burner) and a ride in the plucker, the birds moved on to the pick-out-any- remaining-feathers station, then waited in the chill tank for . . .

The many-busy-hands evisceration station. Plump broiler on the left; comparatively scrawny extra roo from our backyard flock on the right.
I’ll spare you the gory details of this station; but lest you think this was all drudgery, know that we had many amusements to distract us from the disgusting occupy our time, including chicken jokes, various renditions of the chicken dance, and arguments over whether the word is “crop” or “craw.” (It’s actually both, I learned.)

Quality control staff doing a thorough rinse and making sure we didn't miss anything (because sometimes we did--yikes!)
Weigh them, bag them, label them, throw them in the freezer, and that’s it. Then it was time to clean up and wash up and have a big buffet in the back yard with the rest of everyone’s families joining in.
We got home and stuffed all our birds in the freezer except one—and had a delicious Sunday chicken dinner, complete with sweet corn from friends and homegrown green beans and garlic with butter. Mmm mm mm.
Thanks again, Spragues!
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