We used to all get together as a family for chicken killing day. We had aunts, cousins, grandmas, little kids in on it. Grandma would pull off the heads. We kids would chase them around to put into the feather pot. The aunts would gut and pluck them. We'd do a couple hundred in a day. There'd be big buckets of heads, guts, and feathers by the end. After a while, the adults would get tired of us kids "helping" and would send us uptown to get icecream. We'd compare the amount of blood and goo we had on us. By the end of the day every family would have enough chickens for the year.
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