Plant what you like to eat fresh and what your kids and husband likes. Everyone in my family likes lettuce so we ate that all summer.
Think about your favourite preserved foods. I go crazy for pickled beets so grew them and canned them and brought them out ‘for special.’
Consider your work load and time commitment. I really like swiss chard, but hated the amount of time it took to wash, look for bugs, then blanch, drain, cool and bag. It didn’t seem worth it when my kids wouldn’t even eat it.
When your kids are young, plant vegetables that they can help process to make your job easier. We spent many afternoons sitting on the deck popping peas from their pods and putting them in a colander to be blanched and frozen later. Once your kids are old enough to use a knife, get them to sit and watch their favourite movie while snipping the ends off the beans.
Understand that it is an important experience for your children to eat food directly out of the garden. Let them eat sun warm fresh veggies.
If wasps are busy drinking water as you water your garden, don’t wear a knit sweater, wear a tight knit fabric to prevent the biters from getting caught between you and your sweater.
Keep a hankie in your pocket if your nose runs.
Put up some poultry wire around your garden to prevent your dogs from discovering that they like potatoes and carrots. Our dog went digging for a vole and discovered he like fresh veggies too.
When spending the day outside doing heavy work, pause and stretch your muscles. Bend at the waist and touch your toes. Stretch those arm, back and leg muscles because gardening can be hard work and your body needs a break.
Take pictures to mark your progress and to remind you of what you did so you can make changes or keep doing what works.
Have a Garden Party. Show off your work and chat it up with your friends and celebrate your success whether it is in the beginning, middle or after harvest. The enjoyment of food is a very social experience and what can be better than serving your friends and family food that you grew?
Try to discover a new recipe with an ingredient from your vegetables, herbs or fruits. I recently had Limestone Lemonade made with lemon juice, lime vodka and a sprig of rosemary, my mouth is watering and wishing for weekends on the deck. http://www.tastereport.com/TasteReport.com/Drink/Entries/2009/2/24_Cocktail_Nation:_drink_experts_dish.html
Monday, April 12, 2010
Leaping Down the Garden Path
It was a synergistic year for me, everything lining up perfectly so that I could get a vegetable garden going. It felt like the universe was begging me to get my hands into the dirt. I was a stay-at-home mom and the youngest of my five kids, the triplets were past the age of putting every found object in their mouths; I was able to take them from the deck to the yard without the worry of needing to watch them like a hawk. We were able to hook up to city sewer and water through our front yard, leaving our backyard free and clear to put a vegetable garden in without worrying about having to rip it up midseason. My husband’s work contract was due to run out and I felt an urgent need to learn how to feed my family directly.
I was planning to put in some raised beds so that the dogs and the kids wouldn’t run through the vegetables. My father-in-law mentioned that raised beds are more accessible for people with poor mobility and I wanted to build so that it would be easy for him to garden if he ever came to live with us. Raised beds are also good so that you don’t need to be constantly bending over and getting a sore back.
As I was planning to put in some raised beds, a couple of people came to visit from Green Calgary’s (then Clean Calgary) Healthy Homes Program. They told me about lasagna gardening and the importance of buying local food because of the degradation of the planet caused by food shipping. I went to the store and bought seeds for my favourite vegetables. My father-in-law came to visit and he and my husband built four large raised beds. My father-in-law also gave me the book Square Foot Gardening so as they built, I planned the layout of my garden. I collected newspaper and leaves from neighbours and layered them with twigs and peat moss and compost with loam mix. It snowed in late May so I waited until June 1st to plant the seeds.
To my amazement, the garden actually worked. Water, soil and sunshine were the simple things it took to get things growing. I was struck that such a small seed could grow into a mature plant. Radishes, lettuce and potato plants popped up quickly. I planted zucchini seedlings and their big elephant ear like leaves quickly covered their bed. Vibrant purple veins sprung up from little balls of beets. My daily routine involved visiting the garden marveling at the speed with which these plants reached for the sunshine. I would stand with the water hose and spray the garden, the sound of water rushing and the warmth of the sun on my back comforted me as deeply as any religious service. The smell of fresh turned dirt felt familiar on a cellular, on a genetic or evolutionary level. With every step into gardening, I felt like I was coming home.
As my garden grew, I realized that other than eating fresh carrots and strawberries from my mother’s garden when I was growing up, oh, and that one time that potato plants grew out of my little compost pile, I had never grown vegetables and had no idea when to harvest. I started doing research as to when to tell when radishes were ripe, when and how to harvest lettuce. I picked the radishes and found to my delight that my kids didn’t like them so I could eat them myself. I did save some for myself and restrained myself to share with my husband. Unfortunately I wasn’t until I started cutting them up that I noticed little worms. I had forgotten about doing bug checks. I hadn’t thought about bugs at all. I needed to look into that and finding natural ways of preventing bugs.
Imagine how elated I was to discover that if you cut lettuce off leaving an inch, the lettuce will produce another head. I thought I would have to replant all summer, but to my delight, my little lettuce plot could produce all summer.
We had fresh salads every single day. I raided my potato plants too early to get new potatoes. I would point out to the kids every time we were eating something from our garden. That summer we only shopped for meat and dairy products. We were making our own bread and growing our own vegetables.
Throughout the summer, I was getting daily email notices from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency about salmonella in spinach, lettuce and pistachios and Listeria in meats and processed food. The food delivery system was failing and we were all vulnerable; our children, sick, and elderly were most at risk for chronic damage to tainted food. I suspected that in the desire to bring costs down, corporations were cutting corners in food safety. I was more determined than ever to learn how to safely grow and handle food to make sure my family was protected.
I thought more and more about local food sources. I started foraging in my yard, finding Nanking cherries and Saskatoon berries. I moved the rhubarb to a better location hoping for big yields in future years. I pruned and fertilized my crabapple tree. I planted more perennial herbs. I looked at sub climates in my yard and looked into planting more fruits and berries; I planned to plant super foods like blueberries near my fir trees. I vowed to no longer buy shrubs or trees unless they were food producing. I started to imagine my whole yard as food producing.
I started thinking about different seeds to get and new that experienced gardeners poured over seed catalogues all winter. I did a search for seed catalogues and found heirloom seeds. Another door into sustainability opened as I saw that certain varieties of plants are important to continue to maintain genetic diversity. I had heard about the Irish potato famine and knew that agribusinesses’ reliance on a select few strains of vegetables and genetically modified foods was not good for the future of food. The trail led to Salt Spring Seeds on Vancouver Island and their Zero Mile Diet kit. The thought of growing my own wheat and grain for my own breads got me thinking of how to even further push my self-reliance.
My next step was to learn how to preserve the harvest that we weren’t using right away. I loved pickled beets so went shopping for canning supplies. My first attempt at finding used canning jars on Kijiji was successful and I got a pantry’s worth of big jars. I was chatting it up about gardening to everyone and then found some friends who canned all the time. They even bought me the quintessential guide to canning filled with facts and recipes. I had read the book Pickled, Potted and Canned: How the Art and Science of Food Preservation Changed the World by Sue Shepard. http://www.amazon.ca/Pickled-Potted-Canned-Science-Preserving/dp/0743255534/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271101654&sr=8-3The book outlined the sometimes accidental discoveries in food preservation and how the processes worked. I appreciated the scientific discoveries that we took for granted that enabled us to eat in a climate with a short growing season.
My first attempt at canning involved peeling tiny beets and boiling vinegar during a hot summer day with 5 kids home and curious to hang out with me. I was flipping pages in my book while wearing oven mitts, trying desperately not to burn myself, my kids or spill purple juice all over my canning book. I was all for the idea of self-reliance but understood in that sweaty panicked moment that some things are best learned as an apprentice, not just via a book. My half-sister, an experienced gardener and canner, came to visit later that summer and she and I pickled zucchini spears, made strawberry freezer jam, mint jelly, canned Bruschetta and liquor soaked pears. It was an awesome inheritance.
My pantry filled with the fruits of my labour and I felt like I had surpassed what Jane Austin described as an ‘accomplished woman’. That Thanksgiving everything but the wine, turkey and cranberries was either from our garden or homemade; I was truly thankful for the bounty of my garden.
As I noticed my stores dwindling, I thought about how to increase my garden yield. I would analyze what grew well and what my kids liked to eat. I would try to find more recipes for preserving foods that I used year round such as ketchup. My goal was that within 3 years, I wanted all of my vegetables to come from my own yard.
Secretly, I wondered how to enjoy the vibrant culture of the city while being completely self-sufficient by getting fruits, dairy and meat from my yard as well. Enter the backyard chicken…
I was planning to put in some raised beds so that the dogs and the kids wouldn’t run through the vegetables. My father-in-law mentioned that raised beds are more accessible for people with poor mobility and I wanted to build so that it would be easy for him to garden if he ever came to live with us. Raised beds are also good so that you don’t need to be constantly bending over and getting a sore back.
As I was planning to put in some raised beds, a couple of people came to visit from Green Calgary’s (then Clean Calgary) Healthy Homes Program. They told me about lasagna gardening and the importance of buying local food because of the degradation of the planet caused by food shipping. I went to the store and bought seeds for my favourite vegetables. My father-in-law came to visit and he and my husband built four large raised beds. My father-in-law also gave me the book Square Foot Gardening so as they built, I planned the layout of my garden. I collected newspaper and leaves from neighbours and layered them with twigs and peat moss and compost with loam mix. It snowed in late May so I waited until June 1st to plant the seeds.
To my amazement, the garden actually worked. Water, soil and sunshine were the simple things it took to get things growing. I was struck that such a small seed could grow into a mature plant. Radishes, lettuce and potato plants popped up quickly. I planted zucchini seedlings and their big elephant ear like leaves quickly covered their bed. Vibrant purple veins sprung up from little balls of beets. My daily routine involved visiting the garden marveling at the speed with which these plants reached for the sunshine. I would stand with the water hose and spray the garden, the sound of water rushing and the warmth of the sun on my back comforted me as deeply as any religious service. The smell of fresh turned dirt felt familiar on a cellular, on a genetic or evolutionary level. With every step into gardening, I felt like I was coming home.
Imagine how elated I was to discover that if you cut lettuce off leaving an inch, the lettuce will produce another head. I thought I would have to replant all summer, but to my delight, my little lettuce plot could produce all summer.
We had fresh salads every single day. I raided my potato plants too early to get new potatoes. I would point out to the kids every time we were eating something from our garden. That summer we only shopped for meat and dairy products. We were making our own bread and growing our own vegetables.
Throughout the summer, I was getting daily email notices from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency about salmonella in spinach, lettuce and pistachios and Listeria in meats and processed food. The food delivery system was failing and we were all vulnerable; our children, sick, and elderly were most at risk for chronic damage to tainted food. I suspected that in the desire to bring costs down, corporations were cutting corners in food safety. I was more determined than ever to learn how to safely grow and handle food to make sure my family was protected.
I started thinking about different seeds to get and new that experienced gardeners poured over seed catalogues all winter. I did a search for seed catalogues and found heirloom seeds. Another door into sustainability opened as I saw that certain varieties of plants are important to continue to maintain genetic diversity. I had heard about the Irish potato famine and knew that agribusinesses’ reliance on a select few strains of vegetables and genetically modified foods was not good for the future of food. The trail led to Salt Spring Seeds on Vancouver Island and their Zero Mile Diet kit. The thought of growing my own wheat and grain for my own breads got me thinking of how to even further push my self-reliance.
My next step was to learn how to preserve the harvest that we weren’t using right away. I loved pickled beets so went shopping for canning supplies. My first attempt at finding used canning jars on Kijiji was successful and I got a pantry’s worth of big jars. I was chatting it up about gardening to everyone and then found some friends who canned all the time. They even bought me the quintessential guide to canning filled with facts and recipes. I had read the book Pickled, Potted and Canned: How the Art and Science of Food Preservation Changed the World by Sue Shepard. http://www.amazon.ca/Pickled-Potted-Canned-Science-Preserving/dp/0743255534/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271101654&sr=8-3The book outlined the sometimes accidental discoveries in food preservation and how the processes worked. I appreciated the scientific discoveries that we took for granted that enabled us to eat in a climate with a short growing season.
My first attempt at canning involved peeling tiny beets and boiling vinegar during a hot summer day with 5 kids home and curious to hang out with me. I was flipping pages in my book while wearing oven mitts, trying desperately not to burn myself, my kids or spill purple juice all over my canning book. I was all for the idea of self-reliance but understood in that sweaty panicked moment that some things are best learned as an apprentice, not just via a book. My half-sister, an experienced gardener and canner, came to visit later that summer and she and I pickled zucchini spears, made strawberry freezer jam, mint jelly, canned Bruschetta and liquor soaked pears. It was an awesome inheritance.
My pantry filled with the fruits of my labour and I felt like I had surpassed what Jane Austin described as an ‘accomplished woman’. That Thanksgiving everything but the wine, turkey and cranberries was either from our garden or homemade; I was truly thankful for the bounty of my garden.
As I noticed my stores dwindling, I thought about how to increase my garden yield. I would analyze what grew well and what my kids liked to eat. I would try to find more recipes for preserving foods that I used year round such as ketchup. My goal was that within 3 years, I wanted all of my vegetables to come from my own yard.
Secretly, I wondered how to enjoy the vibrant culture of the city while being completely self-sufficient by getting fruits, dairy and meat from my yard as well. Enter the backyard chicken…
Getting to Permaculture
I must have been about 10 years old when I saw and was fascinated by the cover of a magazine, I think it was Mother Earth News; it had a sketch of a homestead with a two story house with a wraparound porch, a beehive, sheep and a wind turbine. I looked at that and thought that is exactly what I want when I grow up. I thought it would be so cool to have everything I needed in my own yard. I must have been a home body and part hermit even back then and the idea of getting honey, wool and electricity from my own yard was ideal.
It was just recently that I remembered that childhood dream, as I learned the skills and put into practice becoming more self-reliant, I realized how blissfully happy each change made me. I felt drawn to different skills and would study books and the internet to learn how to do different things. As a young woman I collected skills, learned how to do things and why we do things. As I learned something I felt drawn to share the information. I was collecting skills and knowledge and it all had to do with becoming self-reliant. I was collecting the pieces of a large puzzle and it wasn’t until a friend asked me if I was into Permaculture that I realized that I was deep into it, yet didn’t know the idea existed. My puzzle had a title.
As I have learned more about Permaculture, I have felt a complete mesh with the philosophy and systems of it. As I read the standard texts about Permaculture, I have recognized books that I have read and cherished. The ideas presented have articulated the concerns I have had in terms of the problems I see in our society. I experienced an intellectual homecoming.
Looking at my current situation, I see that there are lots of ways that I can make changes in my household and I am working diligently to convert my household into a Permaculture Suburban Farm. Follow along as I make and describe the changes.
It was just recently that I remembered that childhood dream, as I learned the skills and put into practice becoming more self-reliant, I realized how blissfully happy each change made me. I felt drawn to different skills and would study books and the internet to learn how to do different things. As a young woman I collected skills, learned how to do things and why we do things. As I learned something I felt drawn to share the information. I was collecting skills and knowledge and it all had to do with becoming self-reliant. I was collecting the pieces of a large puzzle and it wasn’t until a friend asked me if I was into Permaculture that I realized that I was deep into it, yet didn’t know the idea existed. My puzzle had a title.
As I have learned more about Permaculture, I have felt a complete mesh with the philosophy and systems of it. As I read the standard texts about Permaculture, I have recognized books that I have read and cherished. The ideas presented have articulated the concerns I have had in terms of the problems I see in our society. I experienced an intellectual homecoming.
Looking at my current situation, I see that there are lots of ways that I can make changes in my household and I am working diligently to convert my household into a Permaculture Suburban Farm. Follow along as I make and describe the changes.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Permaculture Ethics & Design Principles: Processing Pheasants
Permaculture Ethics
Permaculture Design Principles:
Permaculture Icons used with permission. http://www.permacultureprinciples.com/
How to...Pluck and Gut a Pheasant
1. Grab live pheasant by head just below scull, hold arm down making sure the pheasant cannot touch the ground. Twist body around in a clockwise circle while holding head firmly similar to twisting a towel for a sharp towel snap. Do this very quickly to avoid suffering and to prevent bird from flailing and possibly breaking bones.
2. Hang bird by the neck with twine in a cool room above zero degrees Celsius to keep it from freezing and below 10 degrees Celsius to keep the meat from rotting. Smell the bird each day to check to see if it smells ‘gamey’ if so, discard immediately.
3. Set up your area with a table lined with newspaper, two lined garbage bags, a bucket for each bird, paper towels or cloths, a bone knife and a pair of bone scissors. Wear warm old clothes and a full apron.
4. Cut twine and take bird into your arm, placing breast side up and somewhere in the middle, start plucking the feathers going toward head. Pluck feathers and put them in into a bag for keeping. If any skin comes off, discard into a different garbage bag. Keep skin taught by pulling slightly on the skin while pulling the feathers out. Grab feathers from the base, while pushing the feathers down and then pulling feather out in the same direction as the feather growth. Pluck up to the neck, down to the feet, and then up to the second joint on the wings.
5. Take a knife and score the skin on the foot. Hold the foot on either side of the scoring mark and break the leg bone. Place the foot on the top edge of a counter with the bird hanging down and the bone break at the counter corner. Keep the leg on the counter while pulling really hard down the other part of the bird leg until the foot separates. The foot will still have the tendons attached which will make eating the leg easier. Repeat for the other leg. Discard feet.
6. Grab head just below skull with one hand and just above torso with the other hand. Pull head from body with steady strength. Discard head.
7. With bone shears snip wing tips off on the outside of the joint. Discard wing tips.
8. Pull larynx and gizzard from neck. Birds hold gravelly bits in their gizzards to grind their food as they don’t have teeth for that. Place fingers in throat and scrape innards away from top of ribs as far back as you can reach.
9. Place the bird on the newspaper lined table. Locate the vent on the bottom of the bird and cut above the vent, pointing the blade directly toward the middle of the bird, preventing the piercing of the intestines leading to the vent. Place fingers into the incision and carefully pull the innards away from the bottom of the inside of the bird. Then pull the innards down and towards the incision. Be careful not to puncture the intestines as the odor can be unpleasant and could taint the meat. Discard innards.
10. Place bird in a bucket and carry to a clean sink. Rinse the inside and outside of the bird. Place in the fridge or in a sealed plastic bag then freeze.
11. Wash hands thoroughly using a nail brush. Throw garbage out. Save clean feathers for chicken nesting boxes, fly fishing lures, feather stuffed doggy beds, etc.
Time: 20 minutes to 1 hour, depending on plucking speed.
Disclaimer: Safe food handling requires certain considerations such as keeping food in cool temperatures, keeping feces away from meat and keeping yourself and the area very clean. Learn how to do these things to prevent food poisoning. Information provided does not include such considerations.
2. Hang bird by the neck with twine in a cool room above zero degrees Celsius to keep it from freezing and below 10 degrees Celsius to keep the meat from rotting. Smell the bird each day to check to see if it smells ‘gamey’ if so, discard immediately.
3. Set up your area with a table lined with newspaper, two lined garbage bags, a bucket for each bird, paper towels or cloths, a bone knife and a pair of bone scissors. Wear warm old clothes and a full apron.
4. Cut twine and take bird into your arm, placing breast side up and somewhere in the middle, start plucking the feathers going toward head. Pluck feathers and put them in into a bag for keeping. If any skin comes off, discard into a different garbage bag. Keep skin taught by pulling slightly on the skin while pulling the feathers out. Grab feathers from the base, while pushing the feathers down and then pulling feather out in the same direction as the feather growth. Pluck up to the neck, down to the feet, and then up to the second joint on the wings.
5. Take a knife and score the skin on the foot. Hold the foot on either side of the scoring mark and break the leg bone. Place the foot on the top edge of a counter with the bird hanging down and the bone break at the counter corner. Keep the leg on the counter while pulling really hard down the other part of the bird leg until the foot separates. The foot will still have the tendons attached which will make eating the leg easier. Repeat for the other leg. Discard feet.
6. Grab head just below skull with one hand and just above torso with the other hand. Pull head from body with steady strength. Discard head.
7. With bone shears snip wing tips off on the outside of the joint. Discard wing tips.
8. Pull larynx and gizzard from neck. Birds hold gravelly bits in their gizzards to grind their food as they don’t have teeth for that. Place fingers in throat and scrape innards away from top of ribs as far back as you can reach.
9. Place the bird on the newspaper lined table. Locate the vent on the bottom of the bird and cut above the vent, pointing the blade directly toward the middle of the bird, preventing the piercing of the intestines leading to the vent. Place fingers into the incision and carefully pull the innards away from the bottom of the inside of the bird. Then pull the innards down and towards the incision. Be careful not to puncture the intestines as the odor can be unpleasant and could taint the meat. Discard innards.
10. Place bird in a bucket and carry to a clean sink. Rinse the inside and outside of the bird. Place in the fridge or in a sealed plastic bag then freeze.
11. Wash hands thoroughly using a nail brush. Throw garbage out. Save clean feathers for chicken nesting boxes, fly fishing lures, feather stuffed doggy beds, etc.
Time: 20 minutes to 1 hour, depending on plucking speed.
Disclaimer: Safe food handling requires certain considerations such as keeping food in cool temperatures, keeping feces away from meat and keeping yourself and the area very clean. Learn how to do these things to prevent food poisoning. Information provided does not include such considerations.
Girlfriend's Guide to...Processing Pheasants
- Don’t wear lip gloss when plucking; the downy feathers float and are attracted to the hot air of storytellers.
- Take rings off prior to scooping out the guts.
- Wear a long apron to cover lap if you decide to lie down.
- Tie long hair back as it can get in the way when bending over the sticky bird carcass.
- Wear fingerless gloves if you are plucking in a cold room.
- Try to apprentice with someone for your first time as this is a physical job that is easier to learn by doing.
Ponderings: Processing Pheasants
Upon being invited to a ‘pheasant plucking & cleaning party’ my first thought was that if I went and did it, I might be grossed out and not want to eat the meat and even turn vegetarian. To have real integrity when it comes to being self-sufficient and having a close connection to my food source, then I needed to not only attend, but should even learn how to kill my pheasant.
When we arrived at his cool garage, the pheasants hanging there were beautiful. They were male with a vivid range of colouring that was magnificent. I imagined in times past, the kitchen staff of a wealthy manor saving the tail feathers for a hat for the Mistress of the house. Hanging meat is definitely a cold weather activity and coincidently, hunting pheasants is typically allowed from about Halloween to New Years.
I made a few tears in the skin from vigorous plucking, but it was mostly intact. My husband’s bird had quite a few big tears in it so Jay taught my husband how to skin it. By the time most of my bird’s feathers were off, it resembled a store bought chicken much more except the meat was darker and looked reddish-pink and the tiny fat pockets seen through the translucent skin was almost yellow.
I was a bit creeped out at the thought of just pulling the head off. Jay demonstrated and held the head and body almost under his chin to take advantage of his upper body strength. I started to hold it that way too, although anticipated the head popping off and blood squirting everywhere. The blood was thick and coagulated so it would not have done that, but I was feeling squeamish. I held the neck in front of my belly and pulled really hard. It took quite a bit of strength and did come off eventually, but I didn’t actually see anything because I had my eyes closed. The larynx was there and Jay said that apparently you can blow through the larynx and make it cluck, some people do the same thing to cow larynxes and make them ‘moo’. That sounded like gross games bored teenage farm boys play.
I cut the wings tips off as taking the feathers out of the wing tips was hard to do and would require pliers; the wing tips looked like little angel wings. Discarded body parts were fluctuating from gross to angelic. Scrapping the inside of the cavity to separate the innards from the ribs was easy to do as I imagined the inside of a turkey carcass.
As a city slicker and even after reading books on chickens, I didn’t realize that the ‘vent’ was not only the hole that the eggs came out, but that it is the only ‘bottom’ hole and that the poop comes out of it too. Anyway, Jay cut above the vent, making sure he did not pierce the bowels. I then had to scoop out all the guts, trying to do it all in one scoop, bringing the stuff from the front of the cavity to the back. I pushed the guts toward the back of the bird and mistakenly started pushing poo out the vent. As I got the guts out, I saw the full intestines and said they looked so smooth like little sausages, Jay commented that they are cute little poo sausages. Isn’t it odd how many food items resemble body parts? I accidentally pierced the guts by pulling them or poking them and the smell of 3 day old dead poo filled the air; puncturing that in a room full of other people is like letting out the worst cabbage garlic whiskey fart. At least it was my first time so everyone was forgiving.
I looked inside and saw that there was something still stuck to the ribs. It was bright red like sweet and sour chicken balls, so I thought it might be the lungs, sure enough, it was. There was no danger of piercing anything smelly so I dug right in there. I was worried that puncturing the guts might leave a scent on my hands like lingering onion-it didn’t.
All in all it was a good experience, I ended up with two pheasants for the freezer, a bag of feathers for the hen house, and another feeling of accomplishment and the confidence that I can take care of myself and my family; I just need to figure out how to get my hands on a bird.
I asked ‘Jay’ if he could call me when he was going to kill the pheasants so I could be there and learn how to do it. He informed me that he was breaking their necks when he picked them up because he didn’t want to drive home with 20 live pheasants in his car and that he would be hanging the pheasants for 3 days before we plucked. As I had recently taken only 6 young chickens home in a box in the van and they kept escaping at every stop, I knew why he was leery. He promised it was really easy to break their neck and that he could show me.
When we arrived at his cool garage, the pheasants hanging there were beautiful. They were male with a vivid range of colouring that was magnificent. I imagined in times past, the kitchen staff of a wealthy manor saving the tail feathers for a hat for the Mistress of the house. Hanging meat is definitely a cold weather activity and coincidently, hunting pheasants is typically allowed from about Halloween to New Years. http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=902
I sat down to plucking with the body on my lap (it felt like a body to me) and the feathers came out pretty easily and I think that is because the bird was hung for 3 days. I felt like I needed permission to do this as this bird gave up its life, sort of, in order to become my food. But as the task master I am, I worked at pulling out the feathers as I thought about the bird giving up its life for my supper. It was odd holding the limp and cold body because it made me think of unconscious kittens in a strange way, the body was substantial yet cold and floppy so it didn’t really feel like a creature, it started to feel like a roast to me.
My mind drifted to my goal of self-sufficiency and then to using all of the body parts and using the feathers seemed easy. Fishermen could use the feathers for fly fishing lures. I am not sure if I would use the feet for anything, the only thing that came to mind was some sort of creepy key chain or voodoo style decorations. I wouldn’t even feed the head to dogs as the bones are hollow and can splinter. There must be some sort of use for the heads and feet that doesn’t involve drinking eyeballs or boiling brains which I am sure is considered a delicacy by some.I sat down to plucking with the body on my lap (it felt like a body to me) and the feathers came out pretty easily and I think that is because the bird was hung for 3 days. I felt like I needed permission to do this as this bird gave up its life, sort of, in order to become my food. But as the task master I am, I worked at pulling out the feathers as I thought about the bird giving up its life for my supper. It was odd holding the limp and cold body because it made me think of unconscious kittens in a strange way, the body was substantial yet cold and floppy so it didn’t really feel like a creature, it started to feel like a roast to me.
I made a few tears in the skin from vigorous plucking, but it was mostly intact. My husband’s bird had quite a few big tears in it so Jay taught my husband how to skin it. By the time most of my bird’s feathers were off, it resembled a store bought chicken much more except the meat was darker and looked reddish-pink and the tiny fat pockets seen through the translucent skin was almost yellow.
I was a bit creeped out at the thought of just pulling the head off. Jay demonstrated and held the head and body almost under his chin to take advantage of his upper body strength. I started to hold it that way too, although anticipated the head popping off and blood squirting everywhere. The blood was thick and coagulated so it would not have done that, but I was feeling squeamish. I held the neck in front of my belly and pulled really hard. It took quite a bit of strength and did come off eventually, but I didn’t actually see anything because I had my eyes closed. The larynx was there and Jay said that apparently you can blow through the larynx and make it cluck, some people do the same thing to cow larynxes and make them ‘moo’. That sounded like gross games bored teenage farm boys play.
I cut the wings tips off as taking the feathers out of the wing tips was hard to do and would require pliers; the wing tips looked like little angel wings. Discarded body parts were fluctuating from gross to angelic. Scrapping the inside of the cavity to separate the innards from the ribs was easy to do as I imagined the inside of a turkey carcass.
As a city slicker and even after reading books on chickens, I didn’t realize that the ‘vent’ was not only the hole that the eggs came out, but that it is the only ‘bottom’ hole and that the poop comes out of it too. Anyway, Jay cut above the vent, making sure he did not pierce the bowels. I then had to scoop out all the guts, trying to do it all in one scoop, bringing the stuff from the front of the cavity to the back. I pushed the guts toward the back of the bird and mistakenly started pushing poo out the vent. As I got the guts out, I saw the full intestines and said they looked so smooth like little sausages, Jay commented that they are cute little poo sausages. Isn’t it odd how many food items resemble body parts? I accidentally pierced the guts by pulling them or poking them and the smell of 3 day old dead poo filled the air; puncturing that in a room full of other people is like letting out the worst cabbage garlic whiskey fart. At least it was my first time so everyone was forgiving.
I looked inside and saw that there was something still stuck to the ribs. It was bright red like sweet and sour chicken balls, so I thought it might be the lungs, sure enough, it was. There was no danger of piercing anything smelly so I dug right in there. I was worried that puncturing the guts might leave a scent on my hands like lingering onion-it didn’t.
All in all it was a good experience, I ended up with two pheasants for the freezer, a bag of feathers for the hen house, and another feeling of accomplishment and the confidence that I can take care of myself and my family; I just need to figure out how to get my hands on a bird.
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