Killing a chicken was easy but hard. The act of plucking off her feathers, eviscerating her carcass and the moment when a living thing became food, in my hands, right before my eyes, were tremendously profound.
I have now been eating my own meat birds for two seasons, and I was excited to do the slow-motion magic trick of turning a live chicken into a perfect roasting bird just like you'd see at the grocery store.
In exchange (ultimately for their lives), they received protection from predators, assistance in bearing young and even rudimentary health care. What would become of our domesticated animals if we were to stop eating them?