They Were Schechted... and I Shaken- A Ritual Ceremony

“So, where are you from?” I turned to the fellow asking me the question, an Adamah alumni who had joined us for a few days.

“This isn’t something I want to talk about right now,” I said, as I plucked feathers out of a rooster up on Beebe Hill.

We had just witnessed a fowl schechting, the ritual slaughtering of an animal, a style of killing where the animal is guaranteed no pain during the process, thereby making it Kosher. Three ducks had been purchased over the last few weeks, taken and fenced in a small area; the rooster was also a recent arrival. Folks had been talking about the slaughtering ritual for a couple of weeks before the ceremony. I, apparently was in my own world- or perhaps in denial- and didn’t realize this was the week they were be slaughtered. We would get to witness, and eventually eat the three ducks and the rooster.

The schochet, the man who would be slaughtering the birds- also an Adamah alumni- prepped us for the ceremony, speaking about the schechting process and allowing us to express our thoughts and feelings. For many, it would be our first time watching an animal being slaughtered for food. Some were excited; others, like me, were anxious and nervous. The schochet donned an apron and took hold of the knife- a specific slaughtering knife, with no nicks, a perfect slaughtering device, to ensure the process would be quick and clean-cut.

“Who wants to hold the rooster?” he had asked. A few brave souls stepped up to hold each bird upside- down, while the schochet gently twisted the neck and made the cut straight through. My friend broke down; others stood amazed; I was shaken. During each round, the bird was slaughtered and placed inside a large bin, allowing it to spasm for a few minutes before dying. Following this process, the schochet invited us to partake in stripping the feathers from the birds, and then cutting off the head, the legs, and the wings.

“So where are you from?” the man, who must have been in his 30’s, asked me. I didn’t want to speak; I was processing these moments. My connection to animals is so strong- for chickens less than goats, another type of farm animal here scheduled to be slaughtered in the Fall. Nevertheless, another being- another four beings were gone from this world.

The ducks panicked before the schechting- I’m not sure whether they had sensed what was coming- but I walked over to a duck being held, stroked its fluffy white feathers, hushed it, whispered, “It’s okay,” while inside, I myself wondered it really would be. The ducks I had learned to tend on frequent mornings- the four ducks, who had made me laugh as they played “Following The Leader” as they quacked away in their little fenced space, would no longer be there when I showed up to obtain the eggs from the chickens, to clean their waste. Would this cage be used for yet another set of ducks, or birds, who would live for a short time before being slaughtered and given to us to partake as a meal?

I haven’t yet decided whether I would eat the rooster and the ducks when they are served later this week, or perhaps next week. Since the schechting, it’s been a mellow day. I yearned for silence as we watched the fowls die, as we plucked the feathers from their bodies, as we pulled the organs from their insides and soaked the meat before they were carried away. I tried to block out the chuckles and screeches from fellow Adamahniks taking part in the process. This was a period of mourning, and all I wanted was a moment of silence.

In a debriefing after the ceremony, we spoke about our experiences. “I’m a little shaken,” I said. “This is a beautiful thing to be a part of, but all I can think of is how another animal, another being was taken from this Earth.” I suppose expressing my gratefulness in witnessing a schechting would have been appropriate, as many in the group did. Of course I was glad I had the chance to be a part of this. But as I stood outside the chicken coop just moments before, I wanted to apologize to the chickens for taking away a member of their community- four members of their community. It’s hard to imagine I will ever spend my time with the chickens the same way again, automatically taking their eggs and scooping their excrement. Four beings were taken from the top of Beebe Hill today- it seems my relationship with birds and animals may never be the same.

Thank you to Chani Markel and Allen Purvin for recently contributing to my upcoming Hazon bike ride.