We inherited some old black hens from the previous owner of our small property (just under two acres) at Kureelpa on the Sunshine Coast hinterland.
I’ve added some pullets, or bullets, as I like to call them after watching them half fly, half run as they escape the continual pecking from the matriarchs.
These new red chicks are already laying little easter eggs and we are getting inundated with eggs. That’s easy give them away, but in the interests of living a simpler, cheaper, but not nastier, regrettably, life we need to cut back on the amount of chooks. They cost us in feed. They have explosive breasts and look delicious, but the chicken woman told us they will be tough, cook them in a slow cooker or an oven bag for a long time, she said.
Bob said to me yesterday he had picked out the ones we should bang. He asked me if I was going to help. Now for weeks I’ve been bragging about the ease of execution to family and friends but now I’m not sure I can follow through.
The execution methods seem hit and miss and the plucking well I’ve done that before and it’s smelly and messy. So this morning I extracted some Ingham chicken breast fillets from the freezer, just for today.