L.E. Leone on killing the chickens she raised herself:

I can vouch for “essential.” I can vouch for “omnivore.” My brain and my body crave meat with my salad. In fact, I think I might die without it. For sure I’d go crazy. But, personally, I don’t know about “evil.” I’ll own it: There’s a part of me that likes to kill. When I do what I do with a hatchet and a chicken, I feel like crap, and I feel like God. I feel alive and in love and closer than ever to death. So I guess that is, for me, mixed feelings, yes. And the mix itself is welcome and intensely gratifying. In fact, it’s almost too much. Too swirly, too soupy. I can tell you that the part of this swirl which seems “good,” as opposed to “evil,” has absolutely nothing to do with foiling the chicken industry or saving the environment or taking personal responsibility for my role in the food chain. It has to do with getting a little bit bloody and gross, like the complicated, hungry animal that I am.

There Will Be Chicken Blood [Slate]