Chickens $7.00 per kilo

Hello Friends,
Here's a picture of Pinky and Perky. Haven't they grown! We could put a webcam in the sty for your delectation but, ha, who can be bothered? They are fun to watch, though. We just hope they give us as much pleasure on our taste-buds when their time comes!
Who will buy our lovely wares?
We went to a chicken processing plant in St. George on Friday, where they loaned us 19 crates to put our poultry in for transportation to their site. On Monday morning at 3.30 a.m. we started stuffing 10 chickens into each crate. (Remember the 2nd Blog where Michele said she'd use the personal pronoun as plural?) For those who recall, we had originally purchased 200 chicks; of those only four were given away whole and alive; four died within their first two weeks and four died from trampling (by the looks of them), leaving us with 188 useful chickens for killing, plucking, unstuffing and putting into plastic bags; by our maths, that's about a 4% loss rate, working on 200 chicks - 8 = 4 per 100. So, having filled the crates, we loaded them onto the truck, drove the 30 kilometres to the plant and unloaded our hefty little cluck-clucks.
Back home, with no more chicken shite to shovel, we (see above) cleaned out the coop for airing in anticipation of the next bunch of fluffy little yellow chicks to take up residence. The dead carcasses are weighing in at an average of 2kg per bird and we're doing personal home deliveries and discovering more of Barbados.
It's amazing the convoluted directions people will give you to get to their house! For instance, one woman directed us to her place just behind "two mile high trees". It had just turned dusk and started to rain, so with Tony driving and Michele directing and both of us looking up for these two trees which should be easy to see, we were just going round in circles in the increasing darkness and could only just see through the windscreen 'cos Barbados doesn't "shower light"! We eventually found a bloke sheltering from the rain on somebody's balcony and he directed us to the correct road. We found the house by the red gate which was a part of her directions and knocked on the door. The lady took a long, long time to answer. The first thing the woman said on opening the door is, "Why have you come to the back door, when I gave you directions to the front of the house?" Later that night, on retelling the story to another chicken-buyer, we were informed that mile trees grow a fruit like acorns and don't grow two miles high! Neither of us know what mile trees look like!! We'll find it next time, though. It's on the same road as a prominent church!! She had failed to mention this.
More soon.