Before we begin, I wish to point out that, ALL MY DUCKS ARE IN A ROW! Okay, that loud noise is my family and friends howling with laughter. My life tends more toward that meme that says, “I don’t have ducks. I have squirrels, and they’re drunk”. Nevertheless, for this one photo-op, my ducks were in a row!
Now, for a quick PSA. We live on a farm. We ethically raise, humanely kill, and respectfully butcher our meat. I won’t post pictures of any part of the butchering process. However, today I’m going to talk about butchering. Also, I’m an ICU nurse, my husband is a surgical nurse, and my kids grew up hearing us talk shop. There’s a kind of gallows humor common to medical people.
This tale includes a little of that dark humor. This isn’t a sign of callousness. It’s simply a way to manage stressful situations. So, please don’t judge my family if such humor isn’t your way. If the idea of butchering (or dark humor) is likely to offend or make you uncomfortable, please look at the cute lamb picture, then go read this post about daft sheep and bum-biting horses. PSA over.
Moving on…We raise Muscovy ducks. Muscovies are the ugly ducks with red warty skin. There’s a post coming about why we raise them. However, for today, what you need to know is they’re unrelated to other breeds of duck. If they’re crossbred, the ducklings will be sterile. This is the same principle as mules. (horse + donkey = mule [sterile offspring])
When we bought our place, I mentioned to Earl (our un-handyman) that we were planning to breed Muscovies. He said, his friend had two he didn’t have space for. Earl arranged for the man to send them to us free. A few days later, Fred and Ethel took up residence in our duck house.
Months passed, and Ethel began to lay eggs. However, no ugly ducklings were forthcoming. Finally, we cracked a few of her fresh eggs. They had no yolks. It turned out that Fred and Ethel were sterile crossbreeds. Feed is expensive and time is limited, so on our property animals need to serve a purpose. Muscovy ducks are meat birds. So, it was decided that Fred and Ethel would serve the purpose of filling pots and stomachs.
Since Fred made hacking sounds and tried to bite, he was selected to go first. He was past the normal butchering age and was about the size of a medium Butterball turkey, which is BIG! On the farm, we use a chopping block for large birds. So, to ensure as quick and painless a death as possible, we got organized. Jonah held Fred’s wings to his body. Sam had a slip noose loosely looped beneath the head. (This straightens the neck and helps prevent miss-cuts.) Liam was to do the deed. Grace and I were on standby to process.
Our kids didn’t grow up on a farm. We moved here when they were 17, 13, and 12. This was their first time butchering. I wanted everyone to be comfortable participating or not as they chose. So, as we prepared to dispatch Fred, I offered one final chance for anyone to walk away. They informed me that they were “farm kids” now and could “handle it”.
I grinned and said, “There are two kinds of people who do this. There are those who’ll pet Fred and thank him for his sacrifice. There’s nothing wrong with that. However, nurses will do the deed, look down on the twitching carcass, and ask ‘Do you think he’s faking?'” We all chuckled and got down to business.
Jonah and Sam held. Liam chopped, and…CHAOS REIGNED! Do you know that saying “running around like a chicken with its head cut off”? Well, ducks do it too. Fred jerked with such surprising force that Jonah lost his grip. What happened next looked like a scene from a B-horror movie!
Fred, minus his head, leaped to his feet and began to run. If he’d had his head on and both eyes open, he couldn’t have taken better aim. The headless blood-spurting body ran straight at 12-year-old Grace. It was one of those times when your brain can’t register what your eyes are seeing! A few moments later, Fred’s death throes ended…at Grace’s feet.
As a mom, I couldn’t think of what to say. Should I comfort her? Ask if she’s OK? Hide the evidence? Instead, my daughter looked up from the headless duck and in a deadpan voice asked, “Do you think he’s faking?”
Y’all, I fell OUT! Our whole family began to roll with laughter, and the stress dissolved. We still refer to that event as the ‘Attack of the Killer Zombie Duck’! …and Fred was delicious!
Note: Grace is also the kid who wraps hypothermic lambs in her coat and carries them in from the pasture. She’s stayed up all night nursing sick/injured animals. She’s gentle, caring, strong, and umm…bossy. I love her dearly. She ‘s also considering nursing as a career. If you ask me, she was made for it!
Are your kids involved in farm chores? Do you make inappropriate jokes when things are stressful? Have you ever had a B-horror flick enacted on your place? We love to hear your stories!
This post has been shared with some of our favorite blog hops and linky parties. If you have the time, check out some of the great bloggers that host and share at these meet-ups!
The Simple Homestead Blog Hop 264
