I was hoping to write about so many things other than what I am going to today. The farm is doing well, we are eating it's produce at several meals, the kids are helping, we were blessed with a surplus of hay, our call duck Mavis has bonded to Carly, we got ladybugs to stop our aphid problem - so many things have gone well.
But we can't deny that part of life is death. Acknowledging this makes death less scary and life more precious.
Josie went to harvest eggs when we got home from a very enjoyable picnic at the church. When she came back she said that Huevo, one of our Araucana chickens was dead in the aviary. I asked if she was sure and her response was that she wasn't even certain if her head was still attached to her body.
When I went out to verify the situation there wasn't much to decipher. Before we got married our chicken, Clouds was attacked by an unknown predator. She walked around the yard shocked and we put her in the coop overnight. The next morning we found her dead. Huevo had a much more gruesome fate.
Carly took the chicken and carefully examined her. With forensic observations that would rival David Caruso she saw that her neck was badly severed. Her leg was chewed to the bone and her entrails were mostly exposed. It seemed that whatever got to her ate their fill fairly quickly. We think it was a raccoon. When Clouds was attacked it seemed that she was struck quickly and then left, either by a cruel cat or a hawk that couldn't get her off the ground. Huevo was clearly pinned and killed immediately.
Upon determining the cause of death she decided to make this autopsy more of a learning lesson. She took out Huevo's entrails very carefully to show Ethan who was very interested. Here is where the pictures come.
The liver of the chicken is front and center. The pink tube at the top is the ovaduct which passes eggs from her ovaries. The yellow tube is the digestive tract. The yellow that surrounds is fat. In the future, the liver and fat could be used for stock. We, however, did not use any of this chicken for human consumption.
She took the gizzard and cut it in half. When she opened it a treasure trove of stones and even bits of glass were found to help her process her food. The interesting thing about the gizzard is that the lining that contains all of those food processing bits are surrounded in a lining that can be peeled away. That can be used for stock as well. Below the gizzard is the heart. Again, the yellow is fat and the muscle is firm compared to the rest of the organs.
This part is by far the most interesting to me. This picture has Carly's hand holding four eggs in different stages processing through the chicken's ovaduct. Yes, these are eggs. Yes, they are edible. We did not eat them.
The four immature eggs were not all that were in her. If you look to the bottom left you'll see an egg that is fully formed. It was clearly an egg that would've been laid in a matter of hours. It was fascinating and built even more perspective about what we eat. Before we owned chickens eggs came from a store. When we got chickens the eggs came from them but we treated them like gifts. Like something that the chickens discarded for our dietary pleasure. Looking through the ovaduct it was clear that eggs are part of the chicken; that they are a tremendous makeup of how these birds function and a tremendous part of their mass.
The last picture is of her feet. Carly really took a step out of her comfort zone while examining this chicken. She didn't wince at the breaking of bones or the removing of guts. She helped Ethan break the joint and remove the second foot after she removed the first. This is the only thing we used for food. Not for us, for Grimsby our dog. After a quick dip in boiling water Carly peeled the outer skin and removed the nails. These went into the dog food we made tonight. Apparently they are fantastic in stock. If we ever slaughter our chickens in the future we will certainly incorporate the feet into the stock.
During the majority of this anatomy lesson I went to the task of digging a grave. It was kind of surreal. Our chicken that chased Carly and the kids, the one that got out and was first to eat our garden, the one that I promised would be first in the oven when she stopped laying, was dead. I didn't feel sad. I also didn't feel animosity toward her. I felt like nature took her share of our farm. Huevo was buried on the other side of the fence from our aviary. Four large stones mark her grave. A pretty good life for a chicken. She was beautiful and her eggs fed our family. Even the frustration she caused was comical. She forced the kids to be brave. She forced me to be diligent about protecting the garden. She was a good chicken.
This picture was taken this spring when Huevo escaped the coop and defiantly stood at our back door. Tonight as I look out upon the coop I see the chickens defying safety and roosting up atop their coop. They sit in rebellion to every predator that could come for them. Their flock is smaller. I am not worried about the safety of our flock. We have had chickens for two and a half years with only two attacks, and this was the only one that happened in their aviary. I do want them to be safe, and maybe I will listen a little harder for a cluck or quack as I sleep tonight.
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