For the animal lover I am, I have done it and would do it again.
Let's go hunting in the alps.
Thread So is this better or worse? Organic?
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For the animal lover I am, I have done it and would do it again.
Let's go hunting in the alps.
Free range label here means exactly what it says. The bird has been let outside at least once, ever.
I live in the country. There are farms that sell eggs and crap. I usually can't be bothered though because I don't eat eggs, or much chicken for that matter.
I live in the country. There are farms that sell eggs and crap. I usually can't be bothered though because I don't eat eggs, or much chicken for that matter.
This is the time of year when people would slaughter, back when people did that-- Rollie and Eunice Hochsetter, I think, were the last in Lake Wobegon. They kept pigs, and they'd slaughter them in the fall when the weather got cold and the meat would keep. I went out to see them slaughter hogs once when I was a kid, along with my cousin and my uncle, who was going to help Rollie.
Today, if you are going to slaughter an animal for meat, you send it in to the locker plant and pay to have the guys there do it. When you slaughter pigs, it takes away your appetite for pork for a while. Because the pigs let you know that they don't care for it. They don't care to be grabbed and dragged over to where the other pigs went and didn't come back.
It was quite a thing for a kid to see. To see living flesh, and the living insides of another creature. I expected to be disgusted by it, but I wasn't--I was fascinated. I got as close as I could.
And I remember that my cousin and I sort of got carried away in the excitement of it all and we went down to the pigpen and we started throwing little stones at pigs to watch them jump and squeal and run. And all of a sudden, I felt a big hand on my shoulder and I was spun around, and my uncle's face was three inches away from mine. He said "If I ever see you do that again I'll beat you 'til you can’t stand up, you hear?" And we heard.
I knew at the time that his anger had to do with the slaughter, that it was a ritual and it was done as a Ritual. It was done swiftly and there was no foolishness. No joking around, very little conversation. People went about their jobs--men and women--knowing exactly what to do. And always with respect for the animals that would become our food. And out throwing stones at pigs violated this ceremony, and this ritual, which they went through.
Rollie as the last one to slaughter his own hogs. One year he had an accident; the knife slipped, and an animal that was only wounded got loose and ran across the yard before it fell. He never kept pigs after that. He didn't feel he was worthy of it.
It's all gone. Children growing up in Lake Wobegon will never have a chance to see it.
It was a powerful experience, life and death hung in the balance.
A life in which people made do, made their own, lived off the land, lived between the ground and God. It's lost, not only to this world: but also to memory.
--Garrison Keillor "Hog Slaughter"
Today, if you are going to slaughter an animal for meat, you send it in to the locker plant and pay to have the guys there do it. When you slaughter pigs, it takes away your appetite for pork for a while. Because the pigs let you know that they don't care for it. They don't care to be grabbed and dragged over to where the other pigs went and didn't come back.
It was quite a thing for a kid to see. To see living flesh, and the living insides of another creature. I expected to be disgusted by it, but I wasn't--I was fascinated. I got as close as I could.
And I remember that my cousin and I sort of got carried away in the excitement of it all and we went down to the pigpen and we started throwing little stones at pigs to watch them jump and squeal and run. And all of a sudden, I felt a big hand on my shoulder and I was spun around, and my uncle's face was three inches away from mine. He said "If I ever see you do that again I'll beat you 'til you can’t stand up, you hear?" And we heard.
I knew at the time that his anger had to do with the slaughter, that it was a ritual and it was done as a Ritual. It was done swiftly and there was no foolishness. No joking around, very little conversation. People went about their jobs--men and women--knowing exactly what to do. And always with respect for the animals that would become our food. And out throwing stones at pigs violated this ceremony, and this ritual, which they went through.
Rollie as the last one to slaughter his own hogs. One year he had an accident; the knife slipped, and an animal that was only wounded got loose and ran across the yard before it fell. He never kept pigs after that. He didn't feel he was worthy of it.
It's all gone. Children growing up in Lake Wobegon will never have a chance to see it.
It was a powerful experience, life and death hung in the balance.
A life in which people made do, made their own, lived off the land, lived between the ground and God. It's lost, not only to this world: but also to memory.
--Garrison Keillor "Hog Slaughter"
Ewww, fuck that. I don't live in a third world country and certainly don't want to pretend I am.
If I ever get my own footman, I'm fucking using his services.
Syrup Beaver
pants log
Well I know who'll be sitting on the ice floe in that relationship.I see what you did there.
PLUS you have me to go hunting while you stay back and tend to the cats.
Doesn't bother me.
When it goes that way I'll start raising my own chickens though. Have been wanting to do that anyways.
When it goes that way I'll start raising my own chickens though. Have been wanting to do that anyways.
You might know what you're getting into but if I had a choice of livestock, I'd do anything except chickens. ANYTHING.
My uncle had a housepig for years. It was house trained and came to it's name and everything
Hog farms are nasty of course, so are beef farms, but chickens are NEVAR not disgusting no matter how much space they have.
I used to play soccer on a field near a chicken farm and god help you if the wind blew the wrong way