The Day the Chicken Died

The Day the Chicken Died

I'm a city girl. I know it, I accept it. However, I decided when I went to Romania, I would not say "no" to anything. As a result, I ate things I normally wouldn't like, did things I normally wouldn't do, and had a blast doing them! So when Estera said, "Hey, I'm going to Gigi's to have him kill a chicken for lunch tomorrow, you want to come and watch?" How could I say no to that?

We walked to Gigi's and it was evening chore time. We watched them milk the cow, scoop out the barn, feed the pigs, etc. Meanwhile, they were getting a pot of water boiling for the chicken. Shawn got to go pick out the lucky fella and Kevin and I decided that he would video and I would photograph. When in my lifetime will we see this again, right? (For us city folk anyway). Whack, it was all over before I knew it! The chopping part anyway, then literally, the chicken ran around with it's head cut off. No figure of speech there. Blood was squirting out and it was getting all muddy and bloody and it was really disgusting in a cool kind of way.

Then Gigi's wife, Lumenitsa, dunked the chicken in the boiling water and stuck her hands right in there and started ripping feathers off. That took a while and then she and Gigi started a fire to singe the last bits of feathers off. Then she gutted it, and that's when the cute cats came out for their snack. They grabbed the intestines and the gizzards and took off running. Then she handed the chicken over to Estera. It was all over before we knew it.

Talk about fresh! Estera made a chicken soup for the day camp we were having the next day, so that one chicken fed lunch to 50 hungry kids and parents, and there were leftovers for the neighbors. It was really good soup too. I don't think I will ever have chicken that fresh again! Not sure I want to either.