An eye opener for the record books

I have been taking baby steps towards homesteading and having a farm of my own some day. I started a little garden. I added a few more raised beds. Then, yet again, added a few more. Hubby and I built a chicken coop, so I ventured off into chickendom. I have lost chickens. I have added new chickens...and lost a few of those as well. This year's adventure was supposed to be bees until Mini-Me set up shop in my belly, so instead I decided meat birds would do the trick for my need to expand, without really adding any new forms of animal life. I ordered the meat birds along with a few new layers to replace the ones I lost over the winter. I had high hopes. I've been reading and reading about the harvesting day. Confident that my need for self-sufficiency would see me through the gut-wrenching experience of taking a life, even for my family's nourishment, I didn't name these boys or really bond with them much. Everyone kept asking how I was going to be able to do it or IF I was going to be able to do it. I would respond with "I don't know." Which was true. A part of me was hoping that some chicken fairy would fly down and turn them from warm, feathered yard munchers into naked, headless freezer decorations.
I got the opportunity to see, firsthand, how this was really going to go down in the end. As it turns out, I was WAY off on the chicken fairy fantasy. A friend invited me to a "harvesting 101" class at a small farm in Southern Indiana. I got up early, dropped Sophia off at my momma's house, and followed my friend out to the farm so we could meet a few other couples interested in the process. I was happily surprised to see so many young people into chickens and gardening. For awhile, I've felt like the odd-chick-out. I think I recall posting about people at work calling me the crazy chicken lady. Its all fun and games, but when it comes down to it, there aren't many girls that would rather spend a night knitting with a glass of wine when there are clubs to be danced at and the latest fashions to be worn. Its lonely. I really only have had my mom on this journey. And while she is more than sufficient, I feel like I lean on her too much for support and ideas and time spent doing gardener/crafter/farmer stuff. She has a life of her own, but I am forever calling her up to talk about whatever came up in my garden that day or our plans for who is growing what so that we can share veggies.
Anyhoo, the chicken seminar. Back to it. Once everyone arrives, the very sweet and down to earth couple that is teaching us starts by taking us down to the brooder boxes where our future dinners lay unaware of whats to come. Without warning, he grabs up a chicken, bandages her wings and feet down, explaining that this prevents bruising of the meat, and takes her over to a wheelbarrow. His wife grabs a pair of loppers and proceeds to chop off the chicken's head. I started getting light-headed when the bandaging was going on. I thought there might be a grace period for me to get acclimated to each step. When I get blood taken at the doc, after they clean my arm and tie it up, I always ask for a second to breathe and mentally prepare for the excruciating pain about to come. (of course, its never excruciating, but you never know! I hate needles) Everything happened so fast that when I saw the little bit of blood, I knew, right then and there, that I would not be able to do this myself...EVER. I know EVER is a big statement, but I think I really mean it. Seconds after the chicken was in chicken heaven, it was dipped in boiling water, feathers then plucked, legs trimmed off, and insides were removed. It was a very fast process. Nothing past the initial activity bothered me, but I was so bothered by the initial activity that it affected my whole experience. Waves of light-headedness and nausea, the need to flee the scene, they were overwhelming. It got easier with each chicken and watching the process. I did decide that if someone could do the first step, I really could do the rest. All in all, I was so thankful for the experience because I learned many lessons. #1 I bought meat birds that may actually never end up on my table. #2 Its ok to want to try new things, but always know what you're getting into FIRST FIRST FIRST!!! #3 I have a new friend and she is wonderful! She is what I someday hope to be. #4 I am not the only "almost 30" gardener, crunchy mom, wannabe farmer in Louisville. I am not alone. I just have to keep looking! Someday, I will host a Knit-n-Wine right here at my little abode with lots of gals.