Day 17 12/29/04
Today... (dot dot dot) was a gross day. I got to pluck and eviscerate 6 chickens today. I didn’t kill them, Peter did. He did it a different way than Homer did. He put the head between two nails on a log and chopped it with a machete. An old, rusty, pitted machete. As soon as he did that the head separated from the body, a white piece of skin, which I guess was the eyelid, immediately covered the eye. He tossed the chicken to the side. I fully understand the saying “Like a chicken with its head cut off” now. Chickens who have their heads cut off act like spazzes. They still seem alive. They flap around, do double backflips, literally double backflips and act like they are alive. I had to corral them or grab them to make sure they didn’t flap too far away. I still tried to be gentle when I grabbed them. Even though they were obviously dead, I still didn’t want to grab them hard. Peter didn’t care, of course.
I was telling Albert tonight how a lot of English people think animals are cute and cuddly and that they can kind of understand humans. I told him this was probably because all the cartoons and movies with animals that talk, dance and sing. I’m beginning to see now that animals aren’t as human as people like to think. They seem to act mostly on instinct and learned behavior. The cows with calves get pissed if they don’t get a chance to hang out with their calves. They moo a lot, at first it seems like they do that because they care and are compassionate. Now I don’t feel that way as much, the more I hang around animals and the more I kill and gut them and see their insides. A lot of the mystery is gone. I feel how temporary my body is now. I feel my muscles and I feel them inside me like I was feeling the chicken’s muscles. It seems like people are more like animals than animals are like people.
I’m hanging out with a bunch of people who are raised up with the same patterns, beliefs, clothes, haircuts, etc. Sometimes they seem like a herd of cows. Reacting with instinct and the way they were told to react. And it’s the same in the English world. That’s why advertisements work, they tell you to do something and you do it. People do what they’ve learned. That’s why the Amish are Amish because they learned life the Amish way and English are English because they learned life the English way.
The insides of these chickens were different than the insides of the ones at Homer’s. These were older. They had eggs inside them. One actually had a whole ready to eat egg. I ate it raw. Tasted like a normal egg. There were other not yet formed eggs inside. They were golden with red veins. I tried one of them, they tasted pretty good. Peter said they taste great and likes to eat them too, probably not raw though. I ate a liver, ate some chicken fat, tastes gross. I felt okay, didn’t feel too sick and didn’t feel as “Take on the world” awesome as I used to do with the raw liver. I tried some of the poop; Aajonus says it is good for you. I heard traditional people used to eat poop from healthy animals sometimes. Albert and I always tease Marie about eating animal poop. So I tried it, a little, little piece. Wasn’t too gross, tasted grassy. I don’t view poop the same way as I did before. When I cut open a chicken, I see the food before, during and after. It’s still the same thing just smells different. The knives were way too dull. I was supposed to make 3 chickens boneless also, couldn’t do it. I had to have Naomi take over. She said she used to work in a market, she tore that chicken apart. She’s a little firecracker, she’s full of energy and really helps Albert out.
They started burning wood and plastic in the stripping room, which is the room where we do the packing. The furnace leaks. Today it was really bad, I couldn’t even go in there. They don’t have many trash cans, they just take their trash and burn it. I told Naomi there were clouds of death in there. She boiled some water and vinegar and said that would help with the smell. I don’t know if it did, I didn’t want to go back in there.
Albert and I are excited about his pastured veal. It’s pretty hard to get, most people when they hear the word “veal” think, “conventional, cement floor, chained, evil, factory farm veal”. I keep telling Albert they’ll make so much money if they sell pastured veal. I tell him people will call and immediately they’ll ask if it was chained to a cement floor. As soon as they know it was humanely raised they’ll buy it. We’re also excited about the eggs from the pastured hens. They’ve been feeding them oats and for the past couple of days Peter has been feeding them skim milk as a protein source. He said they seem better and healthier and are laying more eggs. I told Albert it’s a perfect marketing tool. No corn or soy, just oats and milk. I said he can soak the oats in the milk and then he’ll be feeding them oatmeal for breakfast, and thriving on it. And if he sours the milk, even better. I told him he could jack up the price another 2 dollars and make millions. I don’t think anyone else is really doing that right now. Hope it works.
I love the brown Jersey, I’m in love. I call her “Daddy’s Little Girl”. She reminds me of a fat baby who is just learning to walk and who is so cute and fat and falls down on her diapered butt so much that all of the adults laugh and say “What a cute baby.” I’ve been talking to her a little more sexually too. Not in a bestiality way, in a funny way. I am slightly turned on by her though. I’m not going to fuck her, its funny.
For breakfast I had scrapple, eggs, fermented carrots, cauliflower and broccoli (chow-chow). An eggnog for supper (lunch). Dinner was potato egg pancakes, creamed corn, butter of course, pretty light, just had an apple, feel okay.