Processing chickens, Kato goes to Freezer Camp, Norman the bucket head

Having a mean rooster was kinda funny in the beginning. Did he really just jump at me? It was cold and most of the time I was out doing chores in my carhart overalls. Scott found it rather amusing as well. Six pounds of rooster was attacking 220 pounds, of 6'2" biker turned homesteader. He'd wait till you weren't looking and then come running up behind you and pounce.

The weather got warmer and it started getting annoying. I'd go in to feed the girls and he jump me. The first time he did it without the overalls on It HURT! I wasn't sure if it was the claws he was hitting me with first, or the wings he was beating me with, but that just wasn't going to fly around here. I chased his feathered ass around the chicken run till I pinned him in the corner. I snatched him up and held him by a wing and his legs and gave him a good shake or three. Then I carried him around upside down while I did the rest of my chores, and threw him back in the chicken run.

 I only had to stomp at him to get him to knock his crap off. Once I turned him out to free range with the girls  he'd get a wild hair up his butt and think about coming after me. I'd throw my hands up of my head, growl, and run at him. That was enough to make him back off. It was getting to be a bit of a pain to always be on the look out for Kato.

Scott called me at work one day dismayed that he killed my rooster. Kato jumped him from behind while he was feeding the horses and out of reflex Scott snap kicked him to the head. He called me back 15 minuets later to tell me Kato was up and pecking again. He was starting to go after Scott every time Scott was out in the yard and had his back turned.

Life is too short to put up with a mean rooster, but I really wanted some chicks from him and my Jersey Giant girls. Then it dawned on me. I have a hen sitting on 14 eggs. (yes she's stolen two more eggs from the other hens.) I don't need that mean old bastaige any more. That and I'm pretty positive one of the new chicks is a roo. Off with his head.

Actually I was helping the neighbor process her three creepy meats today. We didn't off with anyone's head till they were already dead. I found a very good video on youtube. They addressed the problem of the creepy meats having shoulder too wide and necks too short for the cones most people use/make for non creepy meats. They used an empty milk jug. Cut off the bottom and cut out around the pour spout. It worked perfectly. We did mount ours to a saw horse instead of one person holding it.

The question came up between Scott and I on whether to take their heads and then let them bleed out, or cut their throats. I liked the thought process in this video and we did it the same way they did. Pull down the head to stretch the neck, a quick slice against the side of the neck where it meets the head and bleed out into a tote filled with the shavings I pulled out of the brooder pen. Later it's emptied into the compost heap. They still jerked and flapped as their last nervous response took over, but it wasn't the running around flapping with your head cut off that every one imagines. A quick dip in a pot of boiling water and the feathers came out ever so easily. All in all it was a relatively easy process.  Kato met his end today and with a quick prayer of thanks, he's now sitting in my fridge to chill over night, and then into the freezer he goes.

And for Carolyn at Krazo Acres Norman the Bucket Head.

It's not stuck on his head this time, but he still flips it up over his head. I really need to get one of those one that hang on the fence. I only had it tied to the fence with one piece of twine and he could get his head through under the handle. I tied it with a second piece so he couldn't get his head stuck through. Silly calf. 

Moo Calf, Kato the Rooster

The Rooster has a name now. I've just been calling him Mr. Mean. He is a meanie. Runs up behind you and starts beating you with his wings, and scratching at you with his feet. He's gone after me, the dogs, even Scott. Why a five pound rooster thinks he has any business going after a 6'2", 200 pound man is beyond me, but he does. I got sick of it after the first two days. I chased his ass around the inside of the chicken run till I pinned him in the corner. Then I snatched him up and held him upside down by his feet and gave him a good shake. I carried him around upside down while I fed the girls, and filled the horse's water trough. Three afternoons in a row of that, and he decided maybe going after me wasn't a good idea.

Now he sneaks up on me. If i have my back to him and don't look right at him, he comes up on me, but as soon as I turn my head to him, he stops dead and starts looking around like, "What? I wasn't doing anything." He does the same to Scott, but isn't as sneaky about it. Scott has taken to calling him Kato from The Pink Panther. The sidekick guy who was always waiting trying to jump out and surprise Inspector Clueso. He waits till Scott isn't paying attention, then runs up behind him and jumps. Scott even chases him around the yard when he does it. He says it's a game between the two of them now. 

I'm ready to put him in a pot, but Scott says it's not that big a deal. I've been just Waiting for one of the girls to go broody. I'm down to 4 of the Jersey Giant girls. One was killed last Thanksgiving. One died recently of an impacted croup. I Want Babies!!!! Last year we had the Traveling Chicken go broody. I know I still have her cause she's as wild as a March hare. One other girl went broody for a little bit till I broke her of it. I know I have little bitty puffballs in the garage, but I want bitty puff balls that came from My chickens at least once.

I've been locking them in during the day and letting them out in the evenings when I feed. They have been laying eggs in other places than the nest box, and with the possibility of them been fertile, I don't trust the ones I find after playing Easter Egg Hunt. I just found six eggs the other day tucked up in the hay under the tarp covering  Dave's hay out back. So I took those six eggs and left them in one of the boxes hoping to entice a chicken to set them. I do have a line on a guy with a few Silky hens. I've heard they love to go broody.

Speaking of puffballs in the garage, I can just start to see a bit of a difference in size between the little pullets, and the Creepy Meats. Carolyn at Krazo Acres was the one who came up with that term. Their little wing feathers are starting to come in. I have better pics today than the first ones.

All the little buggers do is eat and poop. lol. They are very fun to watch though. When one thinks it finds something to eat, a handful of others come zipping over. They randomly just dart off after nothing. Some of them are flapping their wings and trying to fly already. I want to go get more. lol. 

I worked a little bit last night with Moo Moo cow. I just can't get a name to stick in my head with him, but every time I walk out to feed I call out, "Here Moo Moo Cow." The first time I tried to bottle feed I ended up with calf drool and milk all over me. I had to headlock him with my legs. Sucking reflex was there, but he wasn't trying to suck the nipple off the bottle. The next few days the same. Fast forwards to yesterday and he's headbutting with the bottle in his mouth, bashing it into my legs or stomach. I don't have to hold him still and put the nipple in his mouth. I still was getting covered in calf drool and milk. I went in last night after he was done and mixed up a little more milk replacer, very watered down and took it out in a bucket. I kept stuffing his head down in into the bucket hoping to get his lips into the milk to taste it. Twenty mins later I put the bucket on the ground and started feeding horses. Tried again stuffing his head in the bucket. Walked off and again left the bucket in his pen. When I came back to fill the horse's water, he had his head in the bucket slurping away. Success!! This morning and again this evening I took him his milk in the bucket and he went after it with no troubles. YAY! No more bottle.