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Les Coqs

Best Friends.

Best Friends.

The wonderfully cuddly poussains that had hatched in spring were now all grown up. The chicken house which was built with only three chickens in mind was over crowded (we now had 17!). Anyone entering the backyard was greeting by a mass of chickens running up pecking for grains… The situation was out of control and had to be dealt with. We were hungry… It seemed there was only one thing left to do…

The Coqs, awaiting their fate...

The Coqs, awaiting their fate…

The ‘debate’ as to eat one’s own chickens had begun early. Many people had asked weather or not we would be eating our lovely pets… And when we saw the cute fluffy poussains hatching from their shells, we were decidedly torn. But when the neighbors started putting money on the table and reserving the young coqs, things changed fast. Still, someone had to do the dirty deed. So, the days of bloody, work began… with plenty of plucking to follow.

The verdict: There’s just nothing like the taste of a FRESH farm-raised bird when it arrives on the table. Debate away, our stomachs are satisfied! And our consciences? We know our chickens lived healthy lives and ate well when they lived; and they died… as chickens often do: Decidedly bloody, but we made it as quick as possible… And we did our best to use EVERYTHING- down to the last bit of stock. Can you say that about the last ‘mystery bird’ you bought from the supermarket?


  1. Julianne says:

    Did you make fried chicken? I can only imagine what fresh fried chicken would be like.

    1. Jason says:

      NO… but now it’s on the list. You’ve just severely shortened the life on one of our chickens…

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