Being a farm wife, I usually started the summer cay by picking the fresh garden vegetables for lunch, and killing 2 or 3 chickens to fry. We had a wire snare I used to snatch one of their legs if I could get close enough. Grandma Shute had a dog that would catch and bring her a chicken. I was not that lucky.
Edward’s mom tried to teach me to kill them by holding back the wings and legs, draping their neck over the old stump and giving a big chop with the little axe. Trouble was they would always lift up their head and look at me when it was time to chop! Then sometimes, one chop was not enough...
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