It was a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning in September when I started out for the highway. Before leaving the house, I had nervously entered the destination’s address into the GPS, but in my anxious state, had little faith that it would send me to the right place. Throughout the entire half hour drive, I wondered to myself if I were able to carry out the task ahead of me.
Earlier that week, my friend, Michelle, who owns the local health food store had invited me to her farm for that day to help her and her husband complete an unusual Sunday afternoon ritual – the slaughter of 50 cocks (also known as roosters). Normally Michelle and her husband, René, had raised hens (female chickens), but in that particular year, the hatchery sent them all male chicks. The salesman at the hatchery assured them that these birds would be fine eating when grown to full size, but what they found was quite different and not at all pleasurable to the modern palate. The birds were tough and straw-like, dry and difficult to chew.
