When I was a teen, way back during the 'recession' of the late '70s/early '80s, when Jake Butcher ravished the State of Tennessee with the S&L collapse, our family existed on a little farm way back in the hills, complete with two-seater outhouse and outdoor hose shower. Being city folk really (ok, my mom was raised on a farm, but my step-dad certainly wasn't), we were rather inept in our attempt at living off the land. Anyway, we experimented with raising poultry (chickens are dumb... they all run into one corner of the barn during thunderstorms, and only the top layer survive - and besides, when you miss lopping their heads off, the results aren't pretty), turkeys (they attacked arriving visitors' tires), goats (curiosity killed the goat when he tried to follow someone into the truck and got the door slammed on his neck for his trouble), and bunnies (my little sisters put the kybosh on that dinner menu option). We also raised a couple o'pigs. I don...
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