Advisory: Somewhat traumatic topic.
Here it is, a really beautiful day, and I have to mar it by killing a rooster.
It is for the greater good. We have too many boys in the flock, and this particular Partridge Rock has been terrorizing the other birds, even bloodying the comb of a poor benighted Barred Rock rooster. It is heartbreaking to see a chicken hiding its head because it is being injured by someone higher in the pecking order.
But all the same, I am dreading this task. I do not enjoy it, not one bit, and I find myself inventing anything, anything, anything else to do. On the bright side, the house is now vacuumed.
Okay. Steeling myself. Repeating to myself, "Tandoori Chicken. Tandoori Chicken." Which should make me more eager, but it doesn't, really.
Off I go.