And that's a wrap. The turkey is in the bag. Literally. We'll keep it in a cooler of ice till we're ready to cook it. (We do Thanksgiving on Friday.) Cooking (and eating) pictures coming then.
I read the poem "Green Fields" by W.S. Merwin right before the slaughter. Here are the first few lines:
By this part of the century few are left who believe
in the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
are sounds of shadows that possess no future
there is still game for the pleasure of killing
and there are pets for the children but the lives that
courses of their own other than ours and older
have been migrating before us
Read the rest here
Meanwhile, the chickens don't quite know what to make of the whole scene. They're awfully quiet. Christoph told them, "See you guys? You better start laying!"