Speaking of dead things...
On Wednesday we sent our steer to butcher. I have sent other animals to butcher, many times in fact, but it was never as hard as this.
Before I continue, I want to let you know that I am not some vicious person who enjoys killing animals for my selfish life. Every animal that my family raises is loved, appreciated, and well cared for. Many of the animals we raise would never make it elsewhere. The steer we just butchered-we called him Junior-was born last April. April in Oregon last year was not kind, there were inches of mud, cold winds, and the ultimate weather to give a calf pneumonia. When Junior was born he didn't nurse off his mother very well so we had to teach him. Anyone who has stood next to the flank of a cow knows that it is not always the most comfortable place to be, but we did it anyways. This calf needed help or he might not make it. For a couple of weeks we thought that he had caught pneumonia. The property that we were renting at the time was beautiful pasture in the summer, but a bog from November to May. There was no place to get the calf out of the weather. All we could do was try. He ended up making it ok.
This is just one example of where we have helped a situation that would otherwise be fatal.
If you ask how can I eat these animals that I care for, or how can I eat my pets the answer is not so simple. For starters, farm animals are not pets. That is not what they were domesticated for. My family's pets are the spoiled kittens who wait at the door everytime my sister leaves the house. I have a compassion for animals of all sorts, and I am never cruel. I was raised to eat meat so it is the norm for my family's diet, so I don't think twice about eating meat. But ever since we have started eating meat that we have raised I am so much more appreciative of the whole process. I am thankful to the animal for its carcass that will nourish my body and allow me to be strong and care for other animlas. And I know in my soul that the animal is thankful for a life free of abuse and full of adoration.
To continue Wednesday's story I should tell you that it started at 5:43 am. I am not a morning person, whatsoever. We shooed the steer out of the barn and were going to start moving him through the different pastures, but he wouldn't leave the barn door area. He wanted his mother even though he was well past weaning age; he was 20 months old. (We don't put our animals through the traumatic experience of forced weaning, we allow them to wean themselves since it is the most natural process for both involved. It also happens to be the most cost effective, since the longer they drink milk the less hay supplementation they need.) He ended up charging at us, and I swear I have never hopped a fence so fast-THANK YOU ADRENALINE! At least I know my fight or flight reflexes work :)
After we finally got the bull to where he needed to be, a gun went off. It was incredibly loud, but quick and painless. He didn't feel a thing. It was slightly shocking since I had never been exposed to the butchering process so closely. The previous butchers we have used, you load up the animal on the trailer, truck them over, say goodbye, then go home. This was...very direct.
It hurt to hear it and to see what happened next, but I didn't cry. I said thank you, to Junior. He will nourish my family over the next year and I am incredibly grateful. Am I cold for not even shedding one tear? No, I don't think I am. I maintain my composure and continue my life, not as if it never happened though. I am truly affected, beyond belief. But I can't break down and cry, there are other animals to take care of and other chores to be done.
Life is about accepting the good with the bad, without carrying it like baggage. So yes, I eat meat and I'm proud of the strength it takes to do so. Sorry if that offends some.
Goose
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