Culling Old Hens and Sustainable Transformations

Our beloved, hilarious crew of land-mates

When out and about, it’s easier to tell people that we’re vegetarian. We’re not these days, but telling people that we don’t eat meat unless it’s local and has been reared ethically and sustainably is complicated and can come off as pretentious. So, most people assume we’re vegetarian and that’s okay with us as we’ve become quite accustomed to living life in the “gray-zone.” The more we ponder and alter our life according to our evolving beliefs and values, the less we fit into the black and white boxes worshiped by our culture. Our family was technically vegetarian until last summer, when we raised and slaughtered our own meat chickens for the first time. This year, we raised nearly 400 pounds of chicken for our family and community and will be slaughtering our “feeder” pig, Kevin Bacon, who will provide sustenance for our family this upcoming year as well. This is as local as food can get and we’ve had a hand in every step of the process; including the harvesting and butchering. The weight of the lifestyle changes we’ve made washed over me this past weekend and I found myself left with a grounding sense of fulfillment enshrouded by a bramble of complicated feelings.

This tangle of emotions was unearthed after we had finished slaughtering the last chicken of the year this past weekend. In addition to harvesting the meat chickens we’d raised for the year, we chose to thin our flock of egg-layers as we had some older birds who weren’t laying much anymore. In order to keep a healthy flock, older birds are harvested prior to winter setting in to ensure that there’s enough food and clean space for everyone in the coop on harsh winter days. This practice is as old as animal husbandry itself, however, this meant that we were going to have to cull our beloved hen, Ears.

We picked up Ears and her flock-mates as day-old chicks the very week we started building our earthship-inspired home 4 ½ years ago. Like us, she’s encountered times of great sadness and defeat since then; one such time was when the nest she’d been sitting on for weeks was ravaged and all the chicks-to-be were eaten by a raccoon. We thought she had been taken by the raccoon as well, but to our great relief, she emerged after spending several days in hiding and has held a special place in our hearts since then. We watched her rise in ranks within her flock and enjoyed watching her lead even the most domineering roosters. She was a fighter and unbeknownst to us, she had unconsciously become a symbol of the struggles we’ve encountered over the years in working toward building our sustainable homestead.

This past year, she lost her position in the flock and began getting picked on by her flockmates. She was an elderly chicken by chicken standards and had declined in health and laying potential. We knew this day would come, but it was harder than I ever imagined. I was inside bagging, weighing and cooling the birds that had been slaughtered when I saw her being carried over to the stainless steel kill-cone. I held my breath, fought back tears and had to turn away as her life ended. As rewarding of a day as it was, I ended the day feeling weighed down by a nagging sadness I couldn’t fully articulate at the time.

The next day, I felt the same dismal feeling attached to my psyche and called my husband, Zac, to unpack my feelings. In talking to him, it all became clear. I had no doubt that culling the older hens was the right thing to do; including our beloved Ears. If we were going to maintain the health of our land and animals, it was something that needed doing regardless of how uncomfortable it was. After all, life and death has become a daily reality since we started living a life more in tune with nature.

What I was struggling with though, was letting go of what Ears represented. This feisty, clever, warrior of chicken had been with us every day for the past 4 ½ years of building the life of our dreams. She too had encountered her fair share of ups and downs and in culling her, I felt that a door was closing and the need to mourn and celebrate all the hardships and victories we have encountered since this journey began was needed prior to moving forward. It literally felt like a craggy cliff that needed to be intentionally and cautiously scaled before being able to enjoy the view from a glorious mountaintop. Our home is nearly done now, the infrastructure for sustainable food production set and now we can begin living the life we’ve made for ourselves and move onto fresh projects and goals. This awareness was bringing up an intense amount of conflicting emotions. I felt the past many years of hardship, triumph and passion bubbling over the surface; spilling out in front of me to make sense of. What kept coming to the forefront of my mind while taking in the mess before me was how much more closely connected we’ve become to the resources that sustain our day-to-day life and how much more mindful and present I’ve become as a result. More than anything though, I’ve achieved mindfulness in caring for our livestock and Ears represented this whole lifestyle transformation in my mind.

I start and end each day by caring for our pigs, chickens, goats and duck. Caring for the animals who provide sustenance for our family is one of the few aspects of my life that I haven’t struggled to be present for. Each life, whether directly intended to be food or not, receives the same treatment and love. I make a point to call each animal "my love" while caring for them to ensure that I'm not distancing myself from the sacrifice they may be unknowingly making for our family in providing sustenance for the coming year. Using terms of endearment reminds me that I am in a committed relationship with each and every one of the animals we care for.

Seeing the end of Ears epitomized the literal and figurative life cycle of our build and of the lifestyle we’ve embraced. She is now gone, but we are surrounded by new life here on our land. Everything must die and if we’re fortunate enough, returned to the earth to become the food for the life that is to come after. Life lived in tune with nature forces one to move forward regardless of how trying the effort and actions may be.

In being faced with Ears’ death, I must accept that we’ve ended this part of our journey and now must make the most of what is yet to come. We had set out to build a home that would take care of us and here we are, being cared for by our home. We started our journey vegetarian, unable to afford ethically and sustainably-raised meat and now we find ourselves raising animals for meat and nourishing our family with our efforts.

I’m so very thankful for all that I’ve been gifted by the natural world that surrounds us and by the animals we’ve kept. In all my years of formal education, I can safely say that I’ve learned and grown the most through the real-world experiences that have been bestowed upon us by the lifestyle we’ve embraced. While this chapter closing may have been kindled by an act that forced me to face an uncomfortable amount of emotion, it was necessary in order to fully appreciate all that we’ve been afforded in this life.