G and I have now been together 15 years (yes, we're really old) and our gift-giving has evolved further. I'm really not sure quite how to describe this latest phase of gift-giving, perhaps quirky, or grotesquely practical, or maybe just down-right odd. But last week on Valentine's Day G showed up with a poultry crate of two full grown turkeys just for me. (This was a few days after I received 6 "chicken tickets" to pick out hens or even roosters of my choice for my birthday). I was actually pretty excited about our new feathered friends. Originally, it was my choice whether I wanted to send them straight to the chopping block or keep them around and try to let them become parents this spring.
How fun would it be to breed turkeys!?!? I quickly started to research what I would need to do get my turkey family started. Unfortunately I found that my turkeys are "broad-breasted bronze" turkeys (say that five times fast), and due to their broad breasts they cannot "breed naturally."
How fun would it be to artificially inseminate a turkey!?!?
I actually did consider the possibility of doing this. It probably would be comparable to my goat-milking experience. Except...where do you source that kind of thing? (I'm guessing you might be able to find some on Craiglist, they have everything.). And just think of the educational experience for the kids....
So, even though "breed turkeys" has been added to my homesteading bucket list, I decided that Tom and Frieda (of course they're Tom and Frieda, just look at them, what else could they be?) would make better drumsticks than parents.
I also decided that I would not be butchering my own Valentine's Day gift. That would be terribly unromantic. G wasn't up to trying his hand at butchering yet either. He said something to the effect that he was concerned he would botch it up and we would have a headless half-dead turkey running around the yard.
Of course it wouldn't be hard to find someone to process that kind of thing around here, right? With as many farms and homesteads there's sure to be a butcher that does turkeys.
But after calling around to local butcher shops we found that people are expected to process their own poultry.
Meanwhile, poor Tom and Frieda are cramped in the little chicken coop awaiting their fate while I try to not become too attached to them.
Finally, G did find someone he works with who may be able to take care of the turkeys for us. This coworker is in the 2.4% of the county's population that is not American-born Caucasian; he comes from the Middle East (it took me a good 10 minutes to figure out how to be PC about that). When I asked G if this man would take good care of my Valentine's Day gift, G replied, "Yes. He will even pray over them before he butchers them." What better butchering service could you ask for?
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