“One second.” I could hear her window going back up as I walked away.
I went through the coolers and pulled out the birds that were between four and five pounds, totaled them, and gave her the amount. I was certain she would balk at the price, but she finished writing the check without further complaint.
When I started towards her car with an armload of birds, she rolled her window down a crack and yelled, “You can put them in the trunk, inside the boxes.”
I loaded her birds and came around to her door. She rolled her window down a few inches, tore off the check, and held it out to me between her first two fingers. “I’m Dillon Contreras, and I’m about as Contreras as they come.” She chuckled to herself, as though it was the first time she’d ever made the comment, but I was pretty sure she said it all the time.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Contreras. I’m Billie, Dan’s daughter.”
“Well, I know that, but I am glad to finally meet you. Sheila said you was a little like him, but you ain’t fifty pounds soaking wet. That’s okay. If Sheila likes you, you must be alright.”
“Well, I hope I am. Thanks for buying from me.”
“Of course, I’ll buy from you. You barely been here a minute. How bad could you screw it up, right?” Dillon smiled through her gritted teeth, and I wondered if she would ever leave.
She glanced behind me and put the car in gear. “Well, good luck, little lady,” she said, rolling her window up. Her car spewed a few gravels behind as she pulled away. Luckily, none of them hit me.
“Ain’t she a hoot?” Elliot was striding slowly up the driveway.
“She’s hella crazy. Did she leave because of you? If so, thanks.”
“Aw, she and me don’t get along. She used to be friends with my mama, but they had a falling out. I ain’t mad at her or nothing, but she still acts like that when she sees me. I’m surprised she even stopped.”
We sat in the truck for a while, but when no one else stopped by, I drove Elliot home and put the remaining chickens in the freezer on the porch near the back door.
I left the coolers in the truck bed, thinking we might use them again tomorrow, then collected eggs and checked on the baby chicks. I sat on the steps to take off my boots, and looked out over the yard. I survived my first adventure with the chicken processor, which is more than those poor birds can say. I get to do this all over again two more times this month and then again in August. Yay! It still nags at me, but I am trying to evolve an understanding that killing these birds means that people will get healthy food, instead of the hormone-filled tortured birds that the chain stores sell or even the “organic, cage-free” birds they sell that are raised in practically the same conditions. At least my birds ate good food and had plenty of space to roam around in before they died. Maybe it will get easier.
June 4, 2013
I got a lot of work done today. Elliot sold all but five of the birds before I got outside this morning. He said he and dad usually take one or none of these first birds and wait for the larger ones that most people don’t want. They give one to Sheila if she wants it, and one or two to a family that lives across from Elliot. I am to expect a dozen tamales next Sunday evening. I guess that will be the first time I eat an animal that I have raised myself. I wonder if Jodie and Russ would like one.
June 9, 2013
Jodie and I stayed in for dinner last night, but she had to go home and get ready to leave on her trip. The conference is only in Salt Lake, so she’s driving herself and the circulations librarian, June, to it. It ends on Friday at noon, so she should be back in time for dinner with Chloe, Benj, and me. The plan is for her to drop June at home, go to her house and get ready, and I’ll pick her up for dinner and to stay at my house until Sunday night. After Chloe and Benj have left for Seattle, I’ll run her home and have dinner with her and Russ. It will be a busy week for Jodie, so I probably won’ttalk to her much while she’s at the conference.
June 10, 2013
I made another run to the butcher today. It was a little easier, especially since I didn’t go into the back this time. I still did the giving thanks part, and it does help. Elliot helped me load them into the truck, but he had to go to the vet’s and work this afternoon, so I drove over to Fruitland by myself. The guy there helped me unload the crates, and I was free to roam until after lunch. I wasn’t very hungry, so I just drove around.
In Ontario, I found a museum that had an exhibit about World War II Japanese internment camps. Apparently, one of the camps was in Idaho, and some people were voluntarily brought to this area to do farm work. I had no idea. Maybe I can bring Jodie here sometime, and we can look at their Japanese garden. That would be cool.
Anyway, I went back to the butcher, got the cryovac chickens (that’s what the packaging is called), and took them home. There were a few customers waiting to buy at the gate, including that charmer, Dillon Contreras. She was a
