The Thanksgiving Bird(s)

In keeping with the theme of recent years to become better "locovores" - to grow, make and raise as much of the food our family consumes as possible - this year we purchased four cute little turkey poults in May to raise for a November harvest.

Bourbon Red Turkey Poults - Photo Credit: Porter Turkeys

It was a little difficult to think about - especially for our resident Farm Boy, who had become very enamored with their cheerful "gooblle gooblle goooobllle!" every morning when feeding. They were beautiful and friendly, if quite smelly. A lot smellier than chickens. Anyway, I digress.

We were a little nervous and kinda sad about doing the actual harvesting.

So we brought in reinforcements for a Plucking Par-Tay.

We invited some friends who were skunked last year for Thanksgiving when their specially ordered heritage breed turkey didn't appear at Whole Foods like promised. It didn't hurt that one of them had insane surgical skills like Dear Hubby, and she knew what he was taking about when he referenced "cut circumferentially" and what the xiphoid process, trachea, and other miscellaneous bits of the Turkey were...

We were also joined by a couple of our other good friends, who raised turkeys themselves this year, but had their "turkey processor" go "flaky." So they needed to do the harvesting... and weren't too jazzed about doing it alone.

The more the merrier, I say... and having Mimosas and Bloody Marys to drink beforehand didn't hurt, either.

So, we started with Google. What did we do before Google?? Honestly???  Anyway, we found the Howling Duck Ranch blog that thankfully posted step-by-step "how to butcher a turkey," complete with graphic photos and very clear descriptions. I highly recommend reading it through if you're considering harvesting your own turkey.  Totally helpful, and the "hating" comments afterward, about how butchering your own food is the primary reason for the decline of western civilization, are rather funny to  read...

Again, I digress... might be the Bloody Mary(s).

So here's the set-up. Place to hang 'em. Check! Place to scald 'em. Check! Place to pluck 'em. Check! Sterilized dunking bucket. Check!

We decided that we really couldn't procrastinate any longer, so - up went the turkeys. (Note: From here on in, there's gonna be blood and guts. Don't scroll down any further unless you want to see it all.)

Yes, Farm Boy has a Mohawk. Not my choice of haircut, but he says the girls like it.... hmmm.

We had our two Bourbon Reds, and they had their two Royal Palm-ish (mystery breed, really) toms. Aren't they gorgeous? The turkeys aren't bad, either! <<snicker, snicker, snort>>

At this point, the ladies went in to admire some lovely gingerbread muffins rather than sticking around for the cutting of the throats and crazy wing flapping. There was a lot of wing flapping.

Then it was time for another mimosa, followed by a time for scalding & plucking.

While scalding, we quickly found out that even with these smallish birds - our really large beer making pot really wasn't big enough. We need something much bigger, with room to swish and dunk the bird.  So - we ended up over scalding the birds a bit trying to cram them into the too-small pot.

Then the plucking - which I had truly dreaded. I'd heard it took forever, was messy, and just a general pain in the patootie. It wasn't, though.

We had seven people plucking four turkeys (and a great photographer, obviously). Surprisingly, it didn't take all that long. It was - dare I say it? -  kind of fun, actually. One of the turkeys had a grizzly, bristly beard. All of them had gnarly feet. They kind of all smelled like... um... wet dog.

None had huge Franken-breasts. In fact, I don't think any of them were bigger than 12-14 lbs. Organic, hormone and soy-free feed. Makes you wonder what those Butterballs are fed and dosed with, hm?

The feathers actually came out really easy. Note for next time, though: BIGGER SCALDING POT

Many hands truly do make light work. There was much joking, laughing, and statements of "gross!" from the kiddo peanut gallery when consulted for thoughts on the matter.

Luckily, our photographer didn't pass out.

Almost featherless. Not bloody. Yet.

Cutting "circumferentially" around the neck.

Peeling back the neck skin to find the trachea and blood vessels.

Ok, now we get to the "innards." Turkeys are just built differently. Their stomachs are way up high, and you get it out through the neck area. They have weird "gizzards" that - when you cut them open -have rocks inside. Please note: The photos from here on out DO include blood, guts, and miscellaneous other bits you only see when, well, butchering an animal for food.

Removing the stomach. Those surgeons really came in handy. They like sharp knives.

Probably the most "gross" photo in the string... that's his trachea, stomach, neck and head...

Then, after you've removed the neck and the stomach, it's time for.... the other end.

You have to remove the oil gland, which is right above the anus. For some reason, we all thought that was really funny.

More fun at the "other" end.

So, it's interesting, but you actually remove all the guts - including the gizzard - AND the lungs from the, umm, other end. Hubby is removing the lungs (that he insisted were orange - but were more "coral" in the opinions of the ladies).

This doesn't look good. I know.

Doing something you never really thought you'd do?

Opening and demonstrating the rocks in the gizzard. You peel the membrane back, and it's perfectly good for adding to the stock and making turkey gravy.

Then, it was just time to pretty up the bird... cut off the nasty feet and then dunk in the rinse barrel. I think the photographer got a little bored, and he didn't take photos of the barrel.

But he did get a photo of the trash basket.

This was so much fun, I entered the post in the Barn-Hop!

Delicious Autumn!

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.  - George Eliot


Finally, the heat of Summer seems to have ended, and my favorite season of all is here. Autumn. Even the word itself has a lovely, if ephemeral, connotation. Time for harvest, and thanksgiving for the blessings of the summer.

Here at the homestead, the coming of the cooler weather means an opportunity to harvest the garden,  preserving what we can, and enjoying the last fruit of sunny, heat-filled days.

It also means we are able to complete some work put off during the heat: cleaning out and repairing the poultry houses in anticipation of rain, painting the dog house... sending the Nigerian goat ladies off for a romantic rendezvous with the goat of their dreams.

Hubba hubba!!

Finally, in Autumn my thoughts turn to the upcoming gatherings of friends and family. Halloween kookiness and spookiness... Thanksgiving gratitude... and Christmas sanctity. Ah, the deliciousness of Autumn!

Forty One Years on the Planet

I celebrated forty-one years on the planet this month.

Since my birthday, I've pondered where I am in my life - and this is what I've come up with...

Interestingly, I feel younger and more full of life than ever... at least until 9pm, when this Cinderella droops and has to find her bed. But then again - it's a rare day when I sleep past 6:30am.

I exercise more now that I did in my 20s or 30s.

I love and care for more animals that I ever could have imagined.

I set goals - and meet them! - better than ever.

I have relationships that I treasure, a hubby that loves me wholeheartedly, and kids that make me proud (and exasperated, of course).

I am training to run my first half-marathon in November, and my second in February. Until last year, I couldn't run more than a single mile at a time.

I am building a law practice, loving my husband, raising two beautiful healthy kids, and running an urban homestead - and I think I'm doing rather well at each... and loving each facet of my life.

Is it weird to have found such a zest for living and enjoying life at year forty-one?

Just a Couple Cucumber Vines...

When deciding what to add to our garden this year, I told my dear hubby that I would like just a couple cucumber vines this go around.


Who knew that "just a couple" vines could produce so much?

An armful of cucumbery goodness!

We have two vines that are currently producing a great deal of heritage-type, non-GMO cucumbers - one with traditional, long cucumbers and one producing pickling cucumbers. 


So what do you do with an overabundance of cucumbers? You pickle them!! Have I ever pickled anything before in my life? Nope... but that's never stopped me from doing stuff before - ask anyone who knows me.


So on the 4th of July, in between shopping and getting the house ready for an influx of my son's rugby buddies and a dive-in movie, I decided to preserve some of the pickling cukes - but not before my dear hubby and son were a bit creative with them...

Yes. They are boys with only one thing on their mind. Cucumbers.

So I'm not a fan of mushy, fake green pickles. I'll spend more at the store for the pickles in the cold case every time. So I wanted to do something as close to that as I could. I found a great post at Urban Hennery entitled "Not USDA Approved" - and the pickles look awesome! She also preserves in a way I can totally relate to (i.e., preferably with friends and lots of beer breaks). 


So I used, but adapted, her recipe. In addition to what she uses, I added a clove of garlic and 1/8 tsp mustard seed to each Quart.  Since the men in my family are spicy food fanatics, I also thinly sliced up a jalpeno and added it to three of the jars (and carefully marked them with a huge "S" for SPICY!). Finally, I learned that when she says "stuff with cukes" she really means stuff/wedge the cukes. You don't want those puppies floating all about in the brine.

Grandma Leona’s Dill Pickle Recipe:(adjust to the amount you want to make)

• 12 lbs pickling cukes
• 1 gallon apple vinegar
• 2 quarts water
• 2 cups pickling salt
• pepper corn
• whole cloves
• dill seed
• 12 quart jars and lids

1. Sterilize your jars and lids
2. Put a small head of dill in the bottom of each jar, plus 10 pepper corns, 2 cloves and 1/4 tsp dill seed
3. Stuff with cukes
4. Bring the brine (all other ingredients) to a boil. Fill each jar and promptly put the lid on
5. Set aside to cool – they will self seal
6. Hot pickle variation: add a 1/4″ cube of fresh horseradish and 1/2 small jalepeno

Note: Yeah, I realize that these days all the books tell you that you have to do the hot water bath. But my family has been eating these pickles for 40 years and no one’s ever died from them yet.

So I assembled my supplies, sterilized the jars and got ready to pickle (doesn't that just sound like so much fun!?)

Getting the ingredients together.

My results thus far look promising.  I also had a quarts worth of bush and dragon beans, so I said what the he**, I'll pickle those, too. I ended up with only 5 quarts worth of good quality cukes, so I saved the rest of the brine and will preserve the new cukes as they ripen. Easy peasy.

A couple of the finished pickles - one cucumber, one beans!

What should I pickle next? 

236 Years and Counting

Happy Birthday, America!

 Credit: “American Dream 2” by artist Parvez Taj

The Star Spangled Banner

Francis Scott Key

1814

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,

In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:

'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,

A home and a country should leave us no more!

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved home and the war's desolation!

Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

The Problem of Roosters

I recently convinced my sister to build a chicken coop and raise chickens for eggs. After all, I've been doing it for several years now, and it's an easy and fun way to teach your children (and yourself, if you're a transplanted city girl like me) about agriculture, biology, animal behavior, etc.

My Sister's New Coop!

The list of subjects goes on and on. Chickens are extremely educational.

So, my sister recently texted me a photo of her homemade rubbermaid brooder and her four cute-as-can-be chicks she picked up at the local feed store.

Being the practical sister I am, I texted her back..."You do realize that at least 1 or 2 of these cuties are roosters, right?"

She was not amused.

When all you really want are hens, roosters can be a problem you have to deal with... even if you can have a rooster where you live, you'll likely only need one...what do you do with the rest?

Recently, we had five roosters from our first large incubator hatch that we had to...um... send to freezer camp. I know that sounds cheesy, but in a way - it helps me to find a smile, when it's really not much of a smiling kind of thing.

Living where we are, we are allowed to have roosters - but we are only on 1/2 acre and live close to neighbors who are not thrilled with the concept of roosters.

Unfortunately, with this last batch...one of those roosters became my daughter's special friend. Since hatching, this particular chick had been extremely friendly, would roost on her shoulder, and was simply a lovely bird. We hoped that it would turn out to be a hen, but... it wasn't. That chick turned out to be a very, very loud rooster - doing what roosters do best .... crowing with joy and vigor at 4:30am.

In the end, these particular roosters taught my daughter and I a great deal about being both humane and human. On our way to drop the birds off at the processor, we cried together. We reminisced together. We were strong together.

We realized we are human in our practice and need for protein and meat. We can do as most humans do, and purchase our meat at the grocery store - having no idea where it came from, or what kind of life it lived.

Or we can choose to know those things, and choose to be humane in our consumption.

Our roosters had six months of good food, water, dustbaths, bugs, roosting, flapping, and fun with the hens. One rooster in particular had an amazingly unique life, being treasured and petted by a beautiful young girl.

At the end of those six months, they met a swift and humane end, and we know where our meal came from...

Our Five Roosters

Lapin a la Moutarde (e.g. I know where my meat comes from)

As I sit down to write this post, the first of hopefully many Helix Homestead rabbits is simmering in the pot, covered in delicious mustard sauce, destined to nourish my family. (Recipe from SimplyRecipes.com)

The journey to the point where this city girl could actually raise, name, dispatch, butcher and cook an animal has been a long one… but I think a good one.

I’ve realized over this whole process that the meat I purchase at the grocery store is so far removed from the animal it came from, that my attitude became cavalier about it… if I forgot about the hamburger I bought, and it happened to go bad – I’d feel bad about the money I had spent, but not really on the fact that an animal died so that I could eat.

As I journeyed farther into homesteading, I realized it was even harsher than that… the poor cow that hamburger came from, most likely never experienced even a portion of human kindness. Most likely, that cow experienced horrible living conditions, crammed into too small corrals with others destined for the same fate, wallowing in manure and offal until it met it’s end.

With our Helix Homestead rabbits, it is my intent to treat every we raise animal with kindness - from our dogs to our chickens, turkeys, and rabbits. To ensure they are never hungry, abused, or viewed only as a commodity. When I and my family are hungry - these animals will be treated with respect and a quick, as painless as possible end, followed by an appreciative use of every bit of them as I can muster (I can't bring myself to make blood sausage or head cheese - yet). Their life will go towards the nourishment and health of my family - and I promise to treat them with the thankfulness that fills me, and the food that fills my family's stomachs.

More and more, I want to avoid paying into animal Auschwitz represented by meat on those clean black or red styrofoam trays.  That’s why we started raising rabbits – and rabbit is what’s for dinner tonight. Thank you Hank Shaw (how to cut up a rabbit) and Elise Bauer (Rabbit in Mustard Sauce) for the recipes and virtual handholding through this new process!