The chicken that would not die.

So a while back I wrote about how the agriculture trainees got 20 chicks that we were going to raise and eventually slaughter.  Well this week we were informed that the chickens were big enough and we could take them home to our families or do whatever we wanted with them.  I decided that I wanted to kill my chicken.  I think that since I eat meat I should at least be able to kill a chicken.  

So this morning I went on a walk to go pick up my chicken from the nearby school.  I got into the pen and searched for the fattest chicken that I could find.  I managed to grab it and pull it out of the pen and then I realized it didn’t exactly want to go with me and I got scared of it.  So naturally I grabbed an empty feedbag and shoved the chicken inside of it.  I then began my mile walk home with my panicking chicken flapping around.  I ran into a few Paraguayans on the way that were curious as to why I had a chicken in a bag and I told them I was scared I would lose it; they thought I was absolutely crazy.   I get home and go to my friend Mario’s house because I want him to document my first chicken kill.  We head back to my house and my mom tells me we are going to wait until later to kill it.  I had psyched up for nothing.

Then around 4 pm there is a knock on my door and my mom tells me it is time.  I told her Mario wanted to be there so I go to his house to get him.  Mario has already killed his chicken so he offered me some advice. However, Mario’s advice and my mom’s advice were different.  Mario said I should turn the neck of the chicken before pulling down (which made sense) but my mom said I just needed to pull down.  I then got worried because my sisters and a bunch of local children were all watching and I was told not to pull too hard because I could accidentally pull the head off (gross).  So I go up to the hanging chicken, grab the little head and pull down hard.  I did it wrong.  The chicken is still alive.  So everyone laughs at me and tells me to do it again.  So I go back up to the chicken and the same thing happens.  I am basically stretching out this chicken’s neck like a chiropractor.  I start to get really frazzled and embarrassed and everyone starts laughing at me. I try a third time, still no success.  My mom is looking embarrassed now too, so she suggests Mario do it.  I said she should just do it since I was obviously a chicken failure.  Somehow it ended up that Mario had to kill my chicken.  This was incredibly nice of Mario since he was a little upset after killing his own chicken.  So I now owe Mario a beer or two to make up for doubling the number of animals he has killed in his life.  His little cousin also came up to me laughing and saying, “Mario kills chickens better than you!”.  So I am a chicken killing failure.  Oddly, I am okay with that.  I think that sometime in my next two years in Paraguay I will try again, and the next time I will make sure that I succeed. 

So here are some pictures of my first and failed attempt at chicken killing (my Grandma will be so ashamed!)

Fail. Fail. Fail.