brother.
“Yes, that’s right, Mary,” Mrs. McMurray agreed solemnly. “And after the feathers are picked out, the innards have to be taken
out as well. Now we don’t need help so much with that part as Jimmy and Roy are both here, but we could use a couple of extra
hands picking.”
Jody’s mouth flew open at the thought of “taking out the innards,” but Mary was not to be outdone by Jimmy. “Well, now, Mrs.
McMurray, if you do need help with those innards, we’ll be here,” Mary said confidently.
“What do you mean, we?” Jody whispered in Mary’s ear. “I’m not doing that!”
Mrs. McMurray turned away so the girls couldn’t see her stifling a grin. “Now just wait here by the table, girls. It looks
like Mr. McMurray is getting a chicken ready for you,” she said, bustling out the door toward the steaming black kettle. Jody
grimaced when, through the open door she saw Mr. McMurray holding a chicken by the feet and dipping it several times into
the pot.
“Oh, Mary, do they drown the poor chickens?” Jody sputtered. “Is that how they do it?”
Jimmy glared at Jody in disbelief. “Don’t you know anything?” he growled. “The chickens are already dead when he dips them.
The hot water loosens up the feathers, so you can pull them out easier.”
“Girls, the chickens are put to sleep very fast so they don’t feel anything,” Jimmy’s father began kindly. “Now, what Mr.
McMurray does is . . .”
“Ohhh, that’s OK, Mr. Mooney. You don’t have to explain it or anything,” Jody interrupted while Jimmy rolled his eyes.
Mary and Jody were ready at the long oilcloth-covered table when Mrs. McMurray returned with the steaming chicken. When she
plopped it down in front of the girls, Jody stepped back in dismay while Mary leaned forward curiously to get a closer look.
Mrs. McMurray put both hands on the sodden breast feathers and began vigorously pulling them backward until they came out
in handfuls.
“Now, you see, the feathers come out easily when they are dipped in the hot water first,” she explained. “After we get the
main feathers out of the breast and wings, then you can sit down and pluck the smaller ones. And then we put a little fire
in the singeing pan to singe off the tiny hair-like ones,” she instructed briskly. “Now, who’s ready to give it a try?”
“I am!” Mary raised her hand courageously.
Jody glanced sideways at the lifeless bird and took another step back. “I’ll watch you first,” she said.
Secretly hoping Jimmy was watching, Mary put her hands on the breast of the chicken just as Mrs. McMurray had and swept the
rest of the small breast feathers from the yellow breast. Then she took the longer wing feathers in hand and pulled them out
one by one.
“See, Jode, nothin’ to it,” she crowed.
“What have we got here then?” Mr. McMurray boomed, coming through the door with another chicken ready to be plucked. “Brand
new chicken pickers?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McMurray. It’s not so bad when you get used to it,” Mary said, turning the chicken over so she could get to
the feathers on the back.
“Hmmph,” Jimmy snorted from his seat. He handed the chicken he had been plucking to Mrs. McMurray for singeing and stood to
work on the one Mr. McMurray had just set on the table.
“Hey, it’s Jody’s turn with that one!” Mary admonished, looking up at Jimmy, who was really quite a bit taller up close than
she had expected.
“She’s not gonna do it,” he smirked.
“Oh yes, I am,” Jody declared, pushing her way between Jimmy and Mary and taking command of the breast feathers. “I can do
it just as well as you can.”
Mr. and Mrs. McMurray exchanged amused glances with Mr. Mooney, and then it was all silence in the picking house, as they
each attended to the task at hand. Jimmy stood by and watched Jody with grudging respect as she enthusiastically took to the
job of plucking the breast
“Yes, that’s right, Mary,” Mrs. McMurray agreed solemnly. “And after the feathers are picked out, the innards have to be taken
out as well. Now we don’t need help so much with that part as Jimmy and Roy are both here, but we could use a couple of extra
hands picking.”
Jody’s mouth flew open at the thought of “taking out the innards,” but Mary was not to be outdone by Jimmy. “Well, now, Mrs.
McMurray, if you do need help with those innards, we’ll be here,” Mary said confidently.
“What do you mean, we?” Jody whispered in Mary’s ear. “I’m not doing that!”
Mrs. McMurray turned away so the girls couldn’t see her stifling a grin. “Now just wait here by the table, girls. It looks
like Mr. McMurray is getting a chicken ready for you,” she said, bustling out the door toward the steaming black kettle. Jody
grimaced when, through the open door she saw Mr. McMurray holding a chicken by the feet and dipping it several times into
the pot.
“Oh, Mary, do they drown the poor chickens?” Jody sputtered. “Is that how they do it?”
Jimmy glared at Jody in disbelief. “Don’t you know anything?” he growled. “The chickens are already dead when he dips them.
The hot water loosens up the feathers, so you can pull them out easier.”
“Girls, the chickens are put to sleep very fast so they don’t feel anything,” Jimmy’s father began kindly. “Now, what Mr.
McMurray does is . . .”
“Ohhh, that’s OK, Mr. Mooney. You don’t have to explain it or anything,” Jody interrupted while Jimmy rolled his eyes.
Mary and Jody were ready at the long oilcloth-covered table when Mrs. McMurray returned with the steaming chicken. When she
plopped it down in front of the girls, Jody stepped back in dismay while Mary leaned forward curiously to get a closer look.
Mrs. McMurray put both hands on the sodden breast feathers and began vigorously pulling them backward until they came out
in handfuls.
“Now, you see, the feathers come out easily when they are dipped in the hot water first,” she explained. “After we get the
main feathers out of the breast and wings, then you can sit down and pluck the smaller ones. And then we put a little fire
in the singeing pan to singe off the tiny hair-like ones,” she instructed briskly. “Now, who’s ready to give it a try?”
“I am!” Mary raised her hand courageously.
Jody glanced sideways at the lifeless bird and took another step back. “I’ll watch you first,” she said.
Secretly hoping Jimmy was watching, Mary put her hands on the breast of the chicken just as Mrs. McMurray had and swept the
rest of the small breast feathers from the yellow breast. Then she took the longer wing feathers in hand and pulled them out
one by one.
“See, Jode, nothin’ to it,” she crowed.
“What have we got here then?” Mr. McMurray boomed, coming through the door with another chicken ready to be plucked. “Brand
new chicken pickers?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McMurray. It’s not so bad when you get used to it,” Mary said, turning the chicken over so she could get to
the feathers on the back.
“Hmmph,” Jimmy snorted from his seat. He handed the chicken he had been plucking to Mrs. McMurray for singeing and stood to
work on the one Mr. McMurray had just set on the table.
“Hey, it’s Jody’s turn with that one!” Mary admonished, looking up at Jimmy, who was really quite a bit taller up close than
she had expected.
“She’s not gonna do it,” he smirked.
“Oh yes, I am,” Jody declared, pushing her way between Jimmy and Mary and taking command of the breast feathers. “I can do
it just as well as you can.”
Mr. and Mrs. McMurray exchanged amused glances with Mr. Mooney, and then it was all silence in the picking house, as they
each attended to the task at hand. Jimmy stood by and watched Jody with grudging respect as she enthusiastically took to the
job of plucking the breast
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