Suburban Homesteading – Frugal Living

It seems like all we did was run this weekend, but I know that isn’t true because I have the aching muscles to prove it.

It all started bright and early Saturday morning. I woke to shattered dreams, delusions really that fall was setting in early. Whatever cool weather convinced me it could be so was now gone. I could feel puffs of hot wind coming through my open bedroom window, the telltale sign that the east winds were on their way; those hot, dry miserable winds that start somewhere out over the desert, carry dust and debris from hundreds of miles away and end up – well – here. I was not happy. But, life and farms go on.

I received a call on Thursday. The lambs we dropped off Monday were ready to be picked up from the butcher shop. Not just any butcher shop mind you, an old fashioned butcher shop with coolers and freezers; smokers and sausage makers; hooks and knives and rails. All the equipment needed to custom slaughter and process both domestic and wild animals. And, all done right in plain sight. No back room processing here.

When we dropped off our 4 lambs left over from the state and county fairs Kent was busy finishing up a truckload of grass fed beef from a rancher the next county over. Rather than stay until he had time to “do the deed” we put the lambs into a holding pen and went on about our day. It’s been a long time since I’ve butchered my own large livestock, but situations change and so must we. I doubt my neighbors would be pleased if they woke up some Sunday morning to the sight of carcasses hanging from the rafters of my garage or blood trickling down my driveway. I’m out of the loop on this one.

When we arrived the shop was already bustling. Pick up trucks loaded down with deer and wild boar lined the small street waiting impatiently for their turn to offload. Matt, one of the cutters, and another worker quickly hooked the carcasses and hoisted them off the beds and onto the rail so they could be moved into the cool room. I know better than to get between a hunter and his prize so Brianne and I walked around the corner and entered the shop through the front door.

Kent was on the phone, Brandi was packaging and labeling an order, and Gill was bringing out a pig to cut up. When Kent came out we talked briefly about the hunt, the fair, life, kids, school and sports. In 10 minutes we had caught up on the goings ons of our lives since we last talked three months ago. There wasn’t time for more. His little shop is busy this time of year. Between hunting and county fairs, custom slaughters and special orders Kent’s all about business. And, I can appreciate that, so to business we got. While Mark fetched the boxes containing our lambs I asked Kent how they looked. He threw me a “you’ve gotta be kidding” kind of look before saying “girl you sure know how to raise a lamb worth eating” and “I wish all the lambs I process looked like yours”. Brianne and I smiled. We were proud.

With boxes loaded in the truck we headed back over the hill. Back to the work that lay ahead.

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