fresh chicken

Doug went to visit our watchman Jeremiah the other day, and he came home with a chicken tied to his handlebars. He felt very African.

It's a good thing we learned about killing chickens. I knew to immediately start boling water. Patrick got to work on killing, and with my water, began plucking it. Since we were leaving in such a short time, we ate the meat that night. But the real reason we had to kill the chicken immediately (before Doug even got his backpack off) was because Lee and Matata (the dogs) kept nipping at the chicken's head on the bike. It would not have survived 3 minutes in our yard. So, we opted for fresh chicken meat.