It came to me that if these birds were headed to the dinner table they must somehow meet a similar fate as their brothers. I reckoned that by being the person responsible for them, it put the onus on me to make the arrangements for doing them in and butchering. I had yet to kill an animal intentionally, but had ordered birds deaths by purchasing live chickens from a butcher. I felt called for to assume responsibly for carrying out their sentences since they were in my charge. I asked around for advice from those with experience. I was told that tying the birds feet together before slaughtering them made it easier to handle them and also provided a means to hang them upside down and bleed after their heads were removed. I was also told that since I had only ten birds, it would be trouble-free if I gathered them before they awoke and kept them confined in a large cardboard box.
Long before sunrise, I awoke and went to the coop with a large cardboard box. It was quiet and my roosters hardly were disturbed as I planted them one at a time in the dark confines and closed the lid after the last one had been placed inside. I left the box in the quiet of the coop and went back into the house, prepared a pot of coffee and began a lengthy meditation concerning the deed I was about to perform. It was a bright morning and looking like a fairly fine day to begin my initiation into killing. I gathered a sharp axhatchet to perform beheading, prepared a clean table covered with paper to conduct butchering and ringed a tree with nails for a place to hang fresh killed birds. When all was ready, I fetched the box of roosters and brought them near the chopping block.
To bind their legs, I had prepared ten lengths of cord and had tucked them in my pants waist for easy access. My plan was to reach in the box, grab one at a time, bind his legs, carry him over to the chopping block and dispatch him into the realm of chicken dinner. Somehow they got the gist of what was up and as soon as I slightly opened the box, two managed to fly up, get past me and leave the top wide open for the others to make an escape. Soon all ten were loose in the woods. Chasing was futile and they tended to stay far away from me for the day. I felt a bitter sweetness. I suffered frustration about the mess I had caused and felt empathy for the roosters who escaped sensing they were about to meet some unsavory event. On the other hand, I experienced relief that I had been spared the job of being their executioner. By nightfall, all was peace and they returned to their coop to roost. Their fate waited another day.