Good Morning All,

I hope that you’ve all had a wonderful weekend, and that your Monday morning hasn’t been to mundane so far.

This morning as I was driving home from work I began thinking about all the things about my childhood that eventually I would love to share here.  Of course it is far too much for one post, or one video, but there is no better time than the present.

This weekend was quite the reminder of my childhood when my son called me to tell me that he had a turkey outside his window at my mother and father’s house.  Growing up on a poultry farm I had many pets that people would not think are conventional.  We had chicken and turkey that were raised for slaughter, they were never considered pets, and this I knew growing up.  Those animals were raised purely for food, and even as a child although I am not quite sure why I always had an understanding of this.   In fact, by the kindergarten I made entertainment for myself by shocking adults with my vast knowledge of how to rock chickens to sleep by hanging them upside down by their feet and swinging them gently, and by the first grade I could detail the process of how to slaughter a bird for them as well, it is no surprise other children and adults found me strange, and certainly it was to the astonishment of many that I had this knowledge at such a young age.

Among the 15 – 20 turkeys and some chickens that would be raised for slaughter yearly we also had at least the same amount of laying hens and a rooster named Chanticleer, after the rooster in Rock-A-Doodle, which was a childhood favorite.


The chickens had a variety of names based on colors, or even attitudes in the case of Sassy, who was a fresh little tan laying hen that we had.  There was also my duck, simple named Duck, and my bronze turkey named Chance.  Some children have fish, some have gerbils, guinea pigs, dogs, cats, and then there was me.  I can remember being in the second grade and being overly ecstatic when my teacher announced that he had a pet bird named Spike.  I couldn’t wait to raise my hand to tell him that I too had a pet bird.

Bronze Turkey, very similar in appearance to a wild turkey.  

Chance to me was what most children consider their dogs, Chance was my best friend, and she was imprinted on to me, and would follow me around the yard, sleep with me under trees in the summer sun, let me hold her and cuddle her, she was the best pet.  I would share my stories of her with my classmates and teacher on a regular basis and couldn’t wait to rush home to be with her.

Things in my world seemed perfect and I was perfectly fine with being the strange kid that knew all about living on a poultry farm.  When I was in the third grade I began to see the cruelty, and lack of understanding that the outside world held for this type of lifestyle though.  The area began developing further, soon the conservation land that bordered our home on either side was deemed to hold NO conservation purposes, and our home that had one time been a single digit count in on the right side had quickly became a double digit jump.

We got neighbors who were seeking a “country retreat” from Quincy, a suburb of Boston that at the time was much more metropolitan than our town.  It was the first time I can remember people mistreating an animal in real life, not on television, a person killing an animal to be used for something other than food.  Our Chanticleer was bludgeoned to death by the neighbor simply because they found him to be a annoying to their idea of “country living”. Here I was a child who understood that animals died, understood that we killed animals, but for the life of me I could not and still cannot understand why in the world someone would so brutally hurt an animal for no reason.   After that our family began giving away our farm animals, our spring times were no longer filled with young chicks, and baby turkeys, it lead to a much quieter time and a sadness that I still feel when I think about what we used to have.

Hearing the excitement the other day about the wild turkey my son saw brought back all of those feelings, that he thought it was so awesome and cool.  These memories, these feelings are why I am so passionate about homesteading, why it is something that I want to obtain so badly, it is why I am so against the over development of land.  Why I think that we as a civilization need to STOP BUILDING and protect the wild that we have left.

Until next time! ❤

Peace Happiness Salvation



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