We took our chickens to the abattoir last week. We started to put them in crates at 04.30 am and were blessed with a beautiful sunny morning. Chicks go into a coma like state during the night and we wanted to take advantage of this to make the capture less stressful for them.
Most chickens are presold to the Boxa scheme but we keep a few back for private sale at the farm.
Although there is satisfaction in successfully rearing another batch of chickens, there is also sadness in ending their lives. I was reminded of the way the Bushmen dance in thanksgiving when they have had a successful hunt. They dance to thank the animal for giving its life that they might live.
I was not sure how to spell abattoir so i looked it up in a dictionary. It is a French word coming from the Latin for “to beat”. Gory!