Wednesday morning I delivered 12 chickens to the processor. The girls wanted Mcdonald's for lunch so we stopped. There is nothing on the menu that is of substance that is no meat and I'm not a vegetarian, just thinking. I ordered southwest salad, comes with chicken. The girls got pancakes and milk. I said nothing to them just got what they wanted. I was secretly happy they serve breakfast all day. I got home mixed up the salad, put in the chicken, took a bite, was nauseated. I picked out all the chicken and offered it to the girls, they didn't want it and hadn't seen anything I did, they just didn't want it. I ate the rest of the salad just fine.
what is going on now. I'm disgusted by chicken? or just Mcdonald's Chicken? Later that day I picked up the chickens and thought how much the dogs could enjoy this but would that be wasteful. they aren't cheap to raise and we did it well, lots of free range, well as much as a meat chicken wants, which isn't much. I don't see much in their eyes when I tried to look deep. Not like the pigs, not like the cows and the sheep. It still didn't seem right. Still, this is our food, this is what we don't buy at the store because we raise it better, ourselves, it's humane. sigh...
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Thursday, June 30, 2016
I'm done
My turning point came last week, we were scheduled to load a pig for processing and I hadn't watched much trailer loading in a year. It's always challenging for me emotionally, especially when I haven't done my job. I gave myself the job of making sure the animals are friendly enough to get on the trailer without much effort or force. I was failing drastically at the job and this pig was drug by his ears and tail and forced to go where he would not have gone on his own. I had had enough, done, finished, not interested, over it, can't do it anymore. We are monsters. We chose to do it better but failed, in my eyes. I thought if they had a good life, lots of food, space to move in, interactions with other of their own, it was good enough. The reality I feel now, it's not enough, the end is still the same. They have feelings. They are scared. They are confused. They are only trying to survive in a world they have no control over. I'm a monster.
I remember last year, I took Peppa to the processor. She hadn't been getting pregnant and she was no longer useful, cost too much and she wasn't a pet. She was loaded the night before, uneventful, and I had to deliver her the next morning. I opened the trailer door and she got up, hopped off, all 600 lbs of her, and followed a complete stranger to her death. Unaware and trusting. I cried the entire road home, sobbed uncontrollably, almost to the point of not being able to drive. There were no other cars on the long dirt road home. I felt alone and like a monster.
There was a lamb that went with Peppa that morning. He had never been petted, by his choice and I didn't push it. It was easier that way, they didn't like us, were scared of us, fought hard to escape being caught...that made it easier. When Peppa walked out, trusting that man, the lamb followed along behind her without any trouble. He trusted her in the end, trusted the other soul that was going to the end, to the freezer.
We sold a pregnant pig, she wasn't too friendly. I failed my job again. She was to be loaded and taken to another home for farrowing. She wouldn't get on the trailer so she was drug by an ear and a tail, screaming the whole way across the pen, pregnant,...
stressing, afraid for her life, in pain, pregnant...
fighting for what she probably thought was the end. She died in labor less than a week later. She's in the freezer. She's headed to our pig roast in July. I'm a monster
it was suppose to make it better. a better life. suppose to be humane. somehow it would make it better. we aren't a factory farm, we are a hobby farm that raises all our own food. that is suppose to be great, noble, self-sustaining. we know where all our food is from, what they eat, how they were treated....how they were treated.
I'm done, now how to do I tell anyone, how do I change this...
I remember last year, I took Peppa to the processor. She hadn't been getting pregnant and she was no longer useful, cost too much and she wasn't a pet. She was loaded the night before, uneventful, and I had to deliver her the next morning. I opened the trailer door and she got up, hopped off, all 600 lbs of her, and followed a complete stranger to her death. Unaware and trusting. I cried the entire road home, sobbed uncontrollably, almost to the point of not being able to drive. There were no other cars on the long dirt road home. I felt alone and like a monster.
There was a lamb that went with Peppa that morning. He had never been petted, by his choice and I didn't push it. It was easier that way, they didn't like us, were scared of us, fought hard to escape being caught...that made it easier. When Peppa walked out, trusting that man, the lamb followed along behind her without any trouble. He trusted her in the end, trusted the other soul that was going to the end, to the freezer.
We sold a pregnant pig, she wasn't too friendly. I failed my job again. She was to be loaded and taken to another home for farrowing. She wouldn't get on the trailer so she was drug by an ear and a tail, screaming the whole way across the pen, pregnant,...
stressing, afraid for her life, in pain, pregnant...
fighting for what she probably thought was the end. She died in labor less than a week later. She's in the freezer. She's headed to our pig roast in July. I'm a monster
it was suppose to make it better. a better life. suppose to be humane. somehow it would make it better. we aren't a factory farm, we are a hobby farm that raises all our own food. that is suppose to be great, noble, self-sustaining. we know where all our food is from, what they eat, how they were treated....how they were treated.
I'm done, now how to do I tell anyone, how do I change this...
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