15 years ago if you would have asked me if I could see
myself living how I am now? I would have laughed at you.
Born and raised a city girl with only the traditional $10
per hour, safety helmet, on a bomb proof horse, riding lessons, I never would
have thought I would be raising our own food and meat.
We raised our very first meat lamb this year. From weaning
to freezer, we did it all ourselves. That also includes killing her.
Husband and I work very well together when it comes to hair
brained projects like this one.
About 11 years ago Hubby brought up the thought of putting
in a garden. We lived in a rental house at the time but knew our landlords very
well as they were my parents. We went to Mom and Dad asking permission to tear
up the grass in the back yard and plant a small garden. Just big enough for
some tomato plants and maybe a row or two of corn. They said yes and it’s been
downhill ever since.
The garden grew both in variety and size and so did our
family. With the first baby just learning to crawl we started looking for a
house of our own. We found one that we kind of liked but not really. The house
had such a perfect yard and location though that we told each other we could
learn to love the house. So we bought it.
Soon after moving in Baby #2 made a surprising entrance to
the world. We also increased the size of our garden again, and again, to
finally include two separate patches where we could grow enough tomatoes,
potatoes, beets, peppers, peas and green beans to keep us happy. For a few
months anyway.
Then came the chickens.
We didn’t mention to anyone about the chickens. For weeks we
kept quiet about the peeping coming from the brooder in the office. People tend
to look at you funny when you tell them you have chickens in the office. I also
didn’t know a single thing about chickens except they tasted good. So, I hit
the library, I scoured Google, found backyard chicken sites, and learned.
We promised each other that we would butcher the roosters
ourselves. Hubby remembered his dad doing the killing and thought he could
remember how. I remember my Dad teaching me how to gut ducks so, thinking ‘how
different can chickens be?’, so I volunteered for that job. In the end we had 9
birds in the freezer all dead, skinned and gutted.
But, we needed more, and I’m not talking about chickens. I’m
talking about life.
After looking around for a few months and applying for a few
jobs here and there, we were offered a position on a ranch in North Park
Colorado. We packed up, sold the house, and moved 500 miles away. Starting on
one ranch and now on another. From my hometown where I was born and raised,
where we knew everyone, to a place where we knew no one, no one knew us, and we
could see the hundreds of millions of stars at night.
Drastic?
Absolutely!!
Then came the lambs.
4-H is big in this area and we were encouraged to look into
raising a 4-H project. After some deliberation and research we decided our
oldest boy Gian could raise lambs. However, since we were building a pen for
two lambs already, why not raise three and butcher one?
Peter and I did some serious thinking about this. To raise
and animal from weaning to butcher, to make sure she had the best hay, the
cleanest water, the best quality grain, the safest pen, and the happiest, least
stressful life as possible, is a big responsibility. So why then would we
stress her out by hauling her miles away to trust a total stranger with the
most important part?
We just couldn’t and that’s was all there was to it.
But, could we actually do it? Could we actually take an
animal and end her life after caring for her so vigilantly for so many months?
We did chickens, we told ourselves. Chickens are different, we argued back. So
let’s not raise one then, but have you seen the price of lamb? Oh, we went back
and forth for days.
In the end we decided that if this was the life we wanted,
the self-sufficient, do it ourselves, off grid sort of life, that this was
something we had to do. Also, we had to learn it now while we had the resources
to learn from.
So, we bought a meat lamb. A beautiful little
corriedale/shorpshire cross we named Lambchop.
Like I say, Hubby and I work well together at these sort of
things and when the time came, we sat down and planned our strategy. Much like
the chickens we each took a ‘not-so-great’ task. He shot her, and I cut her
throat to bleed her out. Then we each took task we had seen done or done before
ourselves. I’ve seen my brother skin deer so I started there. “I would skin
from the top down” Says Pete. “Yea, I probably should” I answer. He’s read up
on gutting so he took that task and before long we had a carcass hanging in the
shop to rest overnight.
By then, she was no longer our Lambchop. She was just meat.
Meat for our freezer. Meat to feed my children. Meat that I knew where it came
from. I know how she was raised, what she ate, how she was treated and I know
how she died. She had a name and she had a place in our lives for however
brief. I am wiser for raising her and she will always be remembered.
I’ll say this about the whole experience though......
While it wasn’t the most pleasant thing I have
ever done in my life, I’ll do it again, and I’ll cry next time as well. Thank You for stopping by!!
Barbara <3
