Meanwhile, back on the farm…

Cornish Cross Broilers are an abomination. Seriously. They are disgusting beyond compare. Yes, those day-old chicks were adorable, but their true nature as genetically engineered eating machines has now been revealed, and let’s just say, no tears will be shed when it is time to transport them to the butcher for processing.

Which by the look of things, will not be terribly long. Now, I did know that this breed, this “meat chicken,” had its issues. We had a few from last year, gifts from my brother-in-law, in our freezer. And I was conscious of how large their thighs and drumsticks were, and know that was unnatural. But like so many Americans, I prefer dark meat. I knew that meant that if you don’t butcher them at the right time, they will actually break their own legs from the weight of their giant breasts on their giant thighs. That didn’t deter me from placing the order. Yes, I am part of the problem, and I acknowledge it. I got this breed mostly because we thought my nephew would be raising them and this is the breed he grows. When it was clear my nephew had over-extended himself and they’d need to stay with us, I wished I’d gotten a dual purpose bird, something that would grow at a normal pace alongside the layers where we could cull however many we wanted at the end of a strong foraging season.

I bought them too early. Not thinking about how quickly they’d grow, I ordered them at the beginning of March. It’s still too cold here in Minnesota– 15 degrees this morning and ice back on the pond– to put them outside, so they’re stuck in the barn for a couple weeks more. Since they don’t seem to be getting feathers on their butts and bellies (lying on the layers of straw and poop under the heat lamp??) they wouldn’t mange well outside. Did I mention they are disgusting beasts?

In the basement, I have the six Silver-laced Wyandottes growing at a normal pace, starting to put on their more adult feathers, and nearly ready to go out to the outdoor coop (with a heat lamp) and start their normal lives. The layers are not an issue. I do remind myself, coming away from a feeding in the barn, that my broilers would qualify as “free range” in this country because the barn space gives them much more than four square feet per bird. I don’t feel good about that. Broilers, seriously, are enough to put anyone off of meat.

I’m not willing or interested in becoming a vegetarian. However, I can change my ways. Raising chicken breeds that haven’t been hybridized into mutant disgustingness is an option. Eating more roasted chicken and ordinary sized breasts and legs is possible. Not this year, but next year, and forever after.

Meanwhile, on the vegetable front, the greens and spinach I planted in the greenhouse have put up sprouts and are also developing apace. The cold spell shouldn’t disrupt them, and I’m hoping for salad soon, if not a tiny one by Easter then shortly thereafter. And Good Friday is traditionally the day to plant potatoes. I have plenty sprouting in the storage bin, red and purple and white fingerlings, and if I can find some leaf mulch and compost around here I’ll plant at least the potato bags next week when it warms up. They can stay in the greenhouse a couple weeks, too. Then they get loaded on the six-wheeler and brought to the garden.

In my self-isolation I’m not in my car, not doing much that feels productive beyond my own house. The idea of moving dirt around, of getting that six-wheeler out for chores, even of getting the rider mower out and getting to work on the prairie paths and lawn, is invigorating. Spring can’t come too quickly for me, and with it the good work of the garden.

Getting these birds outside of my house will help, and getting those abominable meat birds outside will feel even better. Meanwhile, I just tend to their food and water and try to ignore the desperate tapping as they mechanically devour. On my list of daily tasks during this season of self-isolation, along with “move your body,” and “clean one space or thing,” and “reach out to someone beyond your home,” is “tend to a living thing,” which for me is plants and chickens these days.