The Last Breakfast

The scorching pot, plucker, killing cone, and 2-gallon bags are ready.  Other than that, I'm not sure we have much of a plan (actually I don't, I'm sure Todd does).  We fed the chickens breakfast for the last time this morning.  By the end of the day tomorrow they will laying in our freezer.  We've discussed it a lot as a family...even before we received them in the mail.  Once again, I think I am the one who is holding back tears.  Everyone else already seems prepared to make a chicken noodle soup with them.  Such is life. 

Our many questions about the process of live "pet" to meat on our plate:  Will we be able to tell easier which are roosters and which were hens?  Will we find eggs inside the hens?  Will their feet really make tasty chicken stock?  Will the plucker look like a snow machine during the process?  What will Woodchuck think about why he was spared?  How long will this all take? 

So we'll spend one last afternoon and evening learning from them and enjoying their magnificence...