Did you ever watch the Love Comes Softly movie on Hallmark? I remember the moment I watched Marty Davis (the main character) prove herself on the frontier by killing her own chicken, plucking it, and frying it up for supper. When I saw that, I made a mental note and told myself that one day I was going to do that too (Don’t ask me why, it is the way my brain works).
The day finally came for me to fulfill the mental note I had made so many years ago and to prove myself as a homesteader. We had a duck (a drake), whom we named Bully, who was well, a bully to all the other ducks. He was starting to harm some of the lady folk and we felt like it was time for him to go to duck heaven. I was ready, ready to move into a whole new level of homesteading. My husband had hunted and killed several deer, but the extent of my help was to preserve the meat once it had been butchered. This time I would be hands on, literally. “We should get a killing cone,” my smart, intelligent husband said. But I didn’t listen, no I was too cheap for that. “It’s only one duck,” I said, “I will just hold it.” I will just hold it?? Really Amanda? I had no idea what I was in for.
The butchering of Bully was a family affair. We believe our kids need to understand the sacrifice it takes to have meat on their plate and well, they are farm kids. We chose a large rock for the killing, a rock we now call the killing rock, creative I know. My job was to hold the wings and body of the duck while my husband Travis, well you know, slit the throat (I’m trying really hard to be sensitive to the weak stomached people). I was unaware of how difficult this job would be. In my butchering vision I thought Travis would slit the throat and Bully would immediately become a lifeless duck. Oh no, to my horror he flopped around while I was attempting to hold him down. It lasted for a good 30 minutes, okay not really, but it FELT like 30 minutes. So many things happened in those short (or long, depending on who you ask) moments when my hands were clasped firmly around Bully’s belly. My emotions, well there was no suppressing them, and I began to weep uncontrollably. Through my salty tears my eyes moved from kid to kid, each displaying a different reaction. My two oldest stood further away, one with her backed turned and the other staring with his mouth wide open, the next two crept closer and closer to the wounded duck shouting ridiculous things like, “Cool!” and “Oh wow!” My husband, who is always so steady and calm under pressure, kept reassuring me that everything was okay. And then it happened, the madness stopped and Bully finally gave out. I let Travis and the kids take over with the plucking while I took a moment to wrap my head around what had happened. I looked down and there was spots of blood on my arms and pants as a reminder of the disaster I had just walked through. As a mother, I always try to be strong for my kids and not overreact because when I am steady it helps steady their own fears. Yeah, not today. I eventually went back and joined the family for the rest of the plucking.
Later, the kids had a ceremony for Bully, burying his head in the back pasture. It sounds kind of gruesome but it was actually quite sweet. They did things proper by finding a rock as a headstone, carving his name into it, and placing a fresh bouquet of wildflowers at its base. And to this day the kids still walk down there to check on his grave (I haven’t brought myself to do it, too soon, too soon).
Near the end of the day I turned to my husband and said, “I don’t care how much it cost, but you get whatever you need to butcher the next time. I am never holding a duck like that again.” I sensed his chuckling on the inside. This is one of the lessons I learned from that day, never try to wing it (no pun intended). And second, through all the emotions and shock, my kids still learned the importance of thanking God for the meat He provides and honoring its life. And I was actually quite surprised at how steady they were through the whole process. All in all it was quite a day and a rather lively inauguration into homesteading.
~Amanda