Once again, I have gotten myself into a predicament. This time it was deciding to get eight Cornish cross chicks this spring.

For those who don’t know, Cornish cross are chickens, the type grown for meat, not eggs. They grow freakishly fast, in a commercial farm they are butchered at eight weeks. The chicken you buy at the store is this type, btw.

So I thought why not get some and raise my own free range meat, right? And now, they are twelve weeks old.

Perfect, right? Not exactly…

Well for one thing, they are darling. They run like fat little dinosaurs across the yard, following me like pet dogs.

For another thing I am missing something critical, and that is someone willing to kill them for me.

I may end up with 20 pound chickens who are so fat they can’t walk if I don’t figure something out soon…

Turns out I am more of a gatherer than a hunter.

Chicken dinner, anyone?