My mom told me about my grandmother killing chickens (she had a very sharp knife for the job), but I never saw her do it. The closest I came was at my paternal grandparents' house when my youngest uncle brought back a mess of quail that he'd shot at the farm; one of them wasn't quite dead, and commenced to running around the yard. A Browning Sweet 16 ended its little exercise period.My Kaw indian gramma 'traumatized' us many times when I was a little kid by watching her go out in the yard and come back with a chicken and then killing it in front of us in the backyard. Her style was pretty brutal, yet she was very sweet with us. Later we were enjoying some good ol grammas fried chicken so I guess I wasnt too traumatized cause I ate it all up.
My mom told me a story about when my grandpa got sent out to kill a couple of chickens. Just like Grandma, he hung them upside down on the clothesline and lopped their heads off. Unlike Grandma, he didn't take down the clean laundry first...