“Chicken Picking Time” by Hilda Goodwin as published in Special Memories: A collection of stories by Chowan County Extension Homemakers
I grew up at a time when children were taught to help work at any job they were old enough to do. The one job I did not enjoy was the spring chicken picking.
The older chickens that layed eggs had to be sold to make room for baby chicks. We killed from 25 to 35 each time until all chickens were sold.
The night before we would take a flashlight and get the chickens off the roost as they slept and put them in a coop to kill the following morning.
The day started about 5 o’clock. Daddy would make a fire around the wash pot filled with water. While it was heating, the chickens’ head were cut off and put in a burlap bag until they were dead. Next they were dipped in scalding water to loosen the feathers so we could pick them off.
Each child old enough had to pick their share of the chickens before we went to school so Mama could finish cleaning them and get them ready for market. We rushed to do our job and hurry to get dressed to meet the school bus. All day long I remember the work I had done that morning because my hands smelled just like steaming chicken feathers. I dared not put my hands close to my nose much less let them get close to anyone else because they smelled so bad.
The good part came when the chickens were sold and we had money to buy a pair of shoes or something else needed. It was worth all we did to help make some money for the family.
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