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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


Butchering Chickens Part…oh my gosh enough about chicken already!


Preacher?  Are those chicken guts starting to get to you?  You are my little Preacher-puppy-wuppy dog, yes you are, Preacher-Puppers.

Unless you tell me differently, Preacher is a little mutt.  Preacher has some herding instincts, the kids, cows, toys and chickens all need to be in certain places and he moves stuff around a lot.  Luckily he doesn’t chew stuff up, he just moves it.  Preacher, where’s my glove?  Where’s my boot?  Where’s the flower pot?  Where’s the ball?  Where’s the bailing wire?  Where’s the bulb sander?  Preacher!!!

He’s a very sweet dog.  I’ve learned to put things away when I’m not using them or I’ll have to go hunt for it out in the yard.  Sometimes he’ll bring stuff from the barn and put it on my front porch like he’s trying to help decorate.  My neighbor, Virginia, has called me numerous times to ask if Preacher has brought something over that she’s missing on her porch, most of the time it’s in my side yard or by my back door.

Who loves the Preacher?  I do!


Wanna talk more about butchering chickens?  Yes?  No?  How about we talk about some cute little girls that came out for a few minutes to learn how to clean a chicken?  Some of our friends drove out to let their kids experience the slaughter.  They have one boy and three girls.  Guess who jumped in to help? Yeah, the girls.

That little girl is scraping the lungs out of the back of the chicken.


Little girl finding the tongue in the chicken head.


And this little girl, who came to live in America with her new family just a few months ago took to cleaning that chicken like she knew a thing or two.  You can’t tell by the look on her face, but she was really enjoying the job.


She looked at the livers and told me that in Ethiopia they took them and cooked them on an open fire,”Oh, yes, very good.  Very, very good” she said.  I think next year she needs to come out earlier and show us how she would cook the livers and prepare the chicken.


Those are the parents, looking anywhere but at their children wallowing in chicken guts.  I think it was a bit much for them.  Does anyone see their son?  Where is their boy?  Yeah, nowhere to be found.  My son, Ike, is playing with chicken feet.  I’m so proud.

…to be continued…I know…will it ever end?

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