Foul Fowl

a few years ago, mate with farm, was invaded by canadian geese, if i remember rightly he said six eat as much as a cow, i had a 4 shot italian jobbie that would bang as fast as i could pull the trigger, i followed the [--word removed--] around all day, started off with No 6 shot, they laughed at that, graduated to 00 buckshot before i got results, finally got one of the buggers. the day long barrage convinced them that it wasnt a nice place and they moved on. i took the dead one home but even my carniverous old man turned his nose up at it, he gave it to a mate who said it was a tough old bird! as an aside another mates dad had a yard full of hissing white geese, fattening for christmas, crap as described above every where. come time to slaughter, his dad showed us the ropes, piece of 2 by 2 wood, one on one side, wing and a leg, other on other side with same grip, dangle head on ground, place 2 by 2 across neck and foot on each side. GENTLY pull and neck stretches, beware of voiding bowels, job done, only trouble was with one of the lads he didnt understand gentle, surprising how easy it was for the head to come off!!
 
Turkey farm I knew .... in the "Shed" they had a long beam at head height ran the length ... in the beam were a row of hooks ...

They used to have the turkeys in a pen at the door ... so it was grab a turkey .. swing it and catch head in hook .. keep walking so that neck was broken / stretched .. unhook and throw to next guy who did the rest of the biz ...

Having watched one time - I couldn't stomach watching again, but I did realise best job was the second guy - as first used to get "pecked" ... bitten rotten !!
 
One year I couldn't be arsed with neck-stretching and thought I'd try a hatchet with a 4 x 4 compost bin upright as the execution block. My mate held the beak and pulled the neck on the post whilst I, with the bird under my left arm and hatchet in my right hand, swiftly administered the fatal blow. Swift, humane and very effective. Except that geese bleed. A lot.

With the final goose dispatched, and my hands and forearms drenched in gore, a horn blew in the stable yard. It was my USAF cottage tenant dropping by on her way to work to pay the rent.

Tsk. She was a Master Sergeant. She shouldn't really have 'barfed' like that when I held out my hand to take the bundle of notes. /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif
 
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