Chicken Dance

You know you are loved when you walk into the house and the kids yell daddy and run over looking for a hug. "Hold on," I told them. "I'm covered in chicken poop and chicken blood. Luke didn't stutter. "I don't care." He jumped up, threw his arms around my neck and planted one on me. Addie had a little frightened look in her eyes, leaned forward for a quick peck and ran off.

I'd spent the day in Penn Valley with my new friends Brad and Alana Fowler at Fowler Family Farms. It was my second trip up there to "process" chickens. The batch we were working on today was about eight weeks old. This was the first batch they'd fed on organic feed. All of the chickens are pastured and spend the days pecking at his pasture, eating bugs and grass and doing chicken stuff. At night they go in the "tractor" pictured above. Every few days it gets pulled around giving them a new spot to graze. Brad got the idea after reading Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma. In the book, Pollan visits Joel Salatin's Polyface Farm in West Virgina. The chicken tractor is one of many of Salatin's inventions that Pollan reports on. Salatin is pretty much a food revolutionary using pastured chickens and "Salad Bar Beef" as his weapons. It's a great book and worth the read if you get a chance.

Brad was raised in the area and married his high school sweetheart. He spent some time in the army but said he always wanted to be a small farmer. He remembers being told in high school that he would never make it as a "small farmer," that there was no money in it. Nonetheless, he took a shot at it. He realized that for the time being he needs a "day job" to take care of the family, but after spending a day working with him you hear that he has plans to expand his operation into other livestock.

The day starts out trying to catch the chickens. We threw a big plastic crate in the back of the truck and took it over to the tractor. As soon as we opened the top one jumped out. I started chasing it (very Rocky Balboaesque). After a couple of seconds, I realized I wasn't going to catch it. Shortly after this little dog came running to help. I'd chase the chicken one way and he'd cut it off. Brad, from, inside the chicken tractor called out a few commands and the dog obeyed. Very shortly, we had the chicken cornered and I scooped it up and put it it in the box in the truck.

Brad climbed back in the tractor and started handing up two and three chickens at a time. He grabbed them by their feet. My job was to take them from him and toss them in the box in the truck. The first time I helped catch them, I have to admit, I was a little nervous. Here I was around all these people who had grown up around these animals and I was afraid I'd make an idiot of myself. When I pulled my hand back as a chicken pecked at it, one of the 15-year-old kids who was helping laughed. "It's not going to bite you."

But not this time. I was seasoned now. You might even say salty. We put about 30 birds in the truck and figured we'd come back for more later. No use making them too uncomfortable in the last few moments of their little chicken lives. I got the honors of getting in the tractor later in the day. Now honestly, if there is a part of processing day that is gross, it is crawling around in chicken poop on your hands and knees trying to grab those things. After a few minutes, I got the hang of it. I'd use a little board to corner them, reach into the mess of feather's and grab as many legs as I could get a hold of. My best grab was four birds.

For the processing, Brad rents a trailer that was built for small farmers to rent. I think he said it was through UC Davis and a grant. The idea is to make the equipment affordable to small farmers.

The part I was most worried about on my first day was the actual killing. The birds get dropped into the killing cones, a table with six upside down funnels with the heads hanging out of the bottom. They squawk a little when you grab them and flip them over but once they are in the cones, most of them relax. Every once in a while they jump out.

The actual kill was pretty anti-climactic. You grab them by the heads, pull the head out the bottom of the cone and poke them through the neck. They hang there bleed out and for the most part, die peacefully. There were a few who "raged against the dying of the light" but most succumbed to their destiny. A few of them got the last laugh by launching chicken poop into the air and onto my face and head. Oh well, like Brad's friend Rob said. "At least it's organic."

I got to take a stab at it (Sorry, hee hee). It was relatively simple. I grabbed their heads, poked them through with the knife and let them bleed out. Sometimes, I'd have to hold their butts down as they did some of the reflexive convulsing that created the saying "running around like a chicken with their head cut off." It was during these times that some of the projectile poop would rain down. You don't feel quite as bad killing something when you are standing there with some of its poop on your face. It felt like retribution.

After they bleed out and stop moving, they are put in the scalding tank. The scalding tank is just water, heated to 150 degrees. They are flipped over and over in the bath. The hot water makes the feathers come out easier.

Next the wet birds get dropped in the coolest invention I'd ever seen. The plucker is a big barrel with rubber fingers on the sides and bottom. The bottom spins while water sprays and the chickens are tossed around like they are in a big clothes washer. After about 15 seconds all the wet feathers are in pile under the contraption and the birds look a lot more like something you'd see in a grocery store.

After that they go into the trailer where they get beheaded, de-footed, and gutted. They soak in water baths for the rest of the morning to clean them out.

Both times I have been there, Brad's friend Rob has shown up with at least one of his kids to help. I don't know what the trade off is, I assume Brad helps Rob, also a chicken farmer, but everyone pitches in to help and no one complains. The work is not terribly hard. As each person does their job, we'd make some jokes and tell some stories. Most of the conversation was taken up by me asking questions about farming. The whole process took about three hours for 100 chickens. When we were done, I helped weigh and bag the chickens I bought. I didn't get too involved in the clean up because some other folks were bringing about a dozen chickens they had raised over for processing.

Friends ask why I go up there to help and I don't really know. I guess it just helps serve as a reminder of where food really comes from. Being a part of the process of turning a chicken into chicken helps remind me of where food really comes from. It certainly makes me appreciate it more when I'm eating it. I really don't know why I go up there. It just seems like something every meat eater should do at least once in their life of carnivory (I don't know if that is a word).

The link to Fowler Family Farm is on the side bar. They also have some turkeys growing up for Thanksgiving. I got to take a look at them. Baby turkeys are not cute. I bet they'll be tasty though.

P.S. After I took a shower, Addie asked if there was still chicken poop on me. I told her I'd showered and she wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me the hug. Fair enough.