When I was a little kid, I remember reading books (or having books read to me) set on farms well in the past.  The farmers would have visitors, and for a nice meal for their guests, they'd grab a chicken from the barnyard and butcher it.  It seemed rather weird to me, rather... quaint.

Well, I guess I now have a quaint life.  My uncle Tim and his family are supposed to visit in a couple weeks, and we're talking about butchering one of the young turkey hens for the occasion.  This seems rather normal to me, very logical.  I was thinking about it today, though, and realized how weird it would have seemed to me when I was younger.