Tuesday, June 30, 2009

How many Oehlschlagers does it take to kill a rooster?

Being the avid list-maker that I am, I took full advantage of the long weekend to document all the tasks I wanted completed.
Now living on a farm with four young kids, I’m sure you can imagine the wide variety of chores to pick from. There was anything from mopping to laundry to groceries to farm work.
Among things to do on the farm side was “kill Jerry” — the rooster, of course. And that was like my No. 1 thing I wanted done.
So as Sunday came and church went, the Oehlschlagers came over to assist with promises of a barbecued bird for dinner.
As kids were napping, we set out to rid ourselves of the menace our head of the henhouse has turned into.
But then we learned there was a bull missing. So the search began and Jerry had to wait. It’s amazing to me how a four-legged compact-car-sized mammal can “hide,” but he did.
And when John had to perform a minor surgery on Patrick’s leg in my garage with a box cutter (it was a new blade, I think), alcohol and tweezers, I realized my day was not turning out the way I wanted.
Rain was also threatening ... great.
But soon enough, the bull was located, legs were bandaged and gloves were donned (Matt thought about putting on his paintball mask but braved Jerry without it).
And into the chicken house they went. Jessicca manned the video camera while me and the kids watched as the men encircled Jerry.
I waited impatiently with the ax I can barely lift. And as Matt and Patrick brought the bird out, one guy on each end, I pretended I didn’t see them whence as I took a whack. When they saw that I really do have the upper-body strength of a toddler, I was vetoed as executioner.
Jerry took his last breath and I learned up close and personal the meaning of “a chicken with his head cut off.”
Ahhhhhh!
Soon after the mess was cleaned up and Jerry was relaxing on the grill, I took a moment to look back on his time at the farm. I thought I might be sad, but nope, I still believe he was/is the spawn of Satan.
Jerry got the last laugh, though. That guy was so tough he was nearly inedible!
Everybody left tired and hungry but satisfied.
What could bond a family more than chasing cows and kids, cutting your brother’s leg open and then harvesting your own livestock?
Good times. Perfect memories made out of an imperfect day.

As seen in the Lawrence County Record
www.lawrencecountyrecord.com

1 comment:

  1. Wish I could have been there! Jerry was EVIL!

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