Holy Tornado

To see the soul of your comrade listen carefully to his music.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Chicken Pickin Gals

If you know what my sister and I were doing in this 1954 photo, then I'd say you got a little Redneck in you too.
Our best growing-up years were spent on a mini farm, across the street from where I live right now.
We had an old rickety barn, with rabbit hutches inside, and a chicken pen attached to one end. We also had pigs, and geese.

Mom bought many baby turkeys and raised them in the house in a big box with a light bulb to keep them warm until they were old enough to put outside. She even had to teach them to eat and drink, since they didn't have a mother to show them.

No, mom didn't get on her hands and knees and peck at the ground. She just kept pushing their heads down into the food and water until they figured it out.
It was a great day when they were introduced to the turkey house and pen. they ran and flapped their little wings with delight.
I felt like doing the same when that stinky box was finally removed from the house!

When mom wanted a chicken for dinner, dad grabbed one by the legs and laid it's neck over the chopping block. It always amazed me that the chicken was so still and even stretched its neck out for the axe.
Dad was a pro and always completed the chore without a problem.

Now, about the picture. After the chicken had stopped flopping around and was considered dead, it was dunked into a bucket of boiling water to loosen the feathers, then someone had to pluck the smelly thing.
Thats how sister Bonnie and I came into the picture.
Then it was taken in the house for mom to gut, wash and cook on our wood cookstove.

I never did like plucking chickens but they sure taste a whole lot better than what we get these days!

So now you know. Mountain Mama is just sort of an old Redneck gal who would love to go back to that wonderful way of life. Simple, honest and sweet.

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