If you told me two years ago that I’d be slaughtering rabbits on a lazy Saturday morning, I probably would have laughed right in your face. I’m talking about the rude laugh where you have to cover your mouth with your hand so you don’t spit on a person.
I’ve always been kind of sqeamish with blood and guts and all, but I guess on some level I’ve known since we started this whole farm thing that I was going to have to find a way to get over some of that. Our daydreams about farm life have typically included some chickens, goats, maybe a few pigs, and a dog if the kids have anything to say about it. The truth is that if we’re keeping animals around the place, some gross stuff is going to happen. Hooves will have to be trimmed and abscesses, worms, growths and Lord knows what else is inevitable. I had quietly accepted that part of our reality, but in my mind, all of the conversion of animals to food would be outsourced. However, as I read numerous books on the subject it started becoming clear to me that paying someone else to do my dirty work would probably produce lower quality meat and would likely erase any potential savings from growing our own food.
That’s how I found myself standing in a friend’s driveway with blood on my shoes and a fresh, un-lucky rabbit’s foot in my hand.