I was about five years old at the time. Crazy drunken Ed, running around the yard, chasing the chickens & ducks. Mom is yelling at Ed, Ed is yelling at Mom. He catches a duck, and tears its head off, as he screams, “I’ll RIP all your fucking heads off!!” I’m standing there on the Porch, crying. All over the yard there are six or seven dead ducks, two lifeless chickens, and one chicken still running around headless, with a bloody, stumpy, neck flopping back and forth. At that moment, I knew what it meant, when I would later hear people say, “Stop running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off”.
In the aftermath, Mom just quietly went around the yard, picking up the chicken and duck carcasses, putting them in a gunny sack. After that day, and for many years, poultry was one of the food types that I had to sneak into my pocket for a trip to the toilet. That is, if I couldn’t sneak it to my dog Trixi, under the kitchen table, when no one was looking. Normally, we would clean and de-feather our dinner before cooking, obviously, but this time Mom took the gunny sack to the local slaughter house/meat packing plant. They gave Mom $4.00 total. They sold them thru their retail “Butcher Shop” storefront.
Yadhum oore yaavarum kelir, “The World Is One Family”
Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD, RSISHE
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