The issue with butchering is the smell. Blood and earth and bowels and the tallow and fat rendering that leaves a distinctive stench that he tries to keep to working on at night. Saving the bones so they can be boiled down for broth that he realizes will hold for a long time for meals as well so this is truly striking him as the best choice he can do.

Even with the smell, though living as long as he has, he's lived in a time when everything else smells worse, and there's a pay off to this that he enjoys.

Now with room to work, he's trying to finish off a pair of geese, and a badger he caught in traps and now taking them down and apart one by one. It's late, but he doesn't care. There's a comfort to the work that he doesn't want to think about, and a promise of keeping his house, and some others, well through the winter. That's what matters.

And not wanting to attack people because of pent up aggression.

So he comes out, axe in hand. It isn't long before one of the geese is dead, blood soaking into the ground though one day he might start saving that as well.