Chicken Dinner

This is what faith looks like.  Our chickens are only old enough to scratch, poop and eat.  I have hope, but My Loving Spouse has faith in them laying eggs in another month, so he has been getting prepared.  The youthful flock has gotten bigger so they go through the food quicker.  Keeping their chicken feeder filled is a bit like trying to keep the refrigerator full with teenage boys around.  We have 6 roosters (or teenage boys) and I’m told this is, “Surplus to requirement”.

There has been some talk of changing the roosters names from Lionel to Stew.  I’m not sure if it was the pooping in my clean barn or the practical side of me seeing just how much chicken laying meal they were eating, when we all know that they’ll not be ‘laying’ anything, but I surprised us both the other night, when My Loving Spouse asked, “Well, what do you want to do about the roosters?”  I might have been in a vengeful, tired, practical, farm adjusted mood, when I said without hesitation, “Let’s eat one”.

The four gray roosters are big, but one should be called ‘Lucky Lionel’ as My Loving Spouse likes the ‘look’ of him, so he has been earmarked for a long rooster life.  One of the Not-So-Lucky- Lionels was now ‘Stew’ and ‘dispatched’.  I was told exactly where Stew was ‘hanging’ so I wouldn’t stumble upon him by accident, information which I greatly appreciated.

My Loving Spouse not only grew up in the country, but was also apprenticed as a chef.  (Yes, he is practically perfect).  So he was completely capable of taking the Not-So-Lucky-Lionel/Stew from the chicken coop to the dinner plate without my having to see, touch or advise on any part of this operation, which was Lucky-For-Me.  The closer we got to dinner, the less I was able to actually imagine eating Stew.  Adapting to all things in the country might take a bit longer than this.  My dinner ended up being… a lovely bowl of rice.  It was the best I could do.  When asked how his dinner was, My Loving Spouse said of course, “Tastes like chicken”.