May 6, 2011
by KeysAmy
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I’ve been a vegetarian several times in my life. When I was an angsty teen in Key West I went veggie for several months just to show that I was far more socially aware than your average high school student in the islands. In college I tried again on the soapbox of environmental responsibility. After college extreme poverty led me down the vegetarian path as I tried to balance gourmet dreams with a very real $20 a week food budget. That time I lasted a whole year, until the Battle of Bacon Hill (also known as the time James cooked a whole mess of bacon in our kitchen).
Recently, I’ve been re-evaluating my relationship with meat. It’s a touchy subject. My post on Peta’s vegetarian starter kit, despite being two years old, remains the most read and commented on piece I’ve posted in the five years I’ve written this blog. When I moved to Coon Rock Farm one of the things I was most excited about was being involved in raising and slaughtering livestock. I wanted to look my food in the face; I felt it was the most honest way to decide if I should be an omnivore or an herbivore. And after killing a few chickens and helping to gut our memorial day pig, I discovered that I had no moral dilemmas with the food from our farm.
But what about animals that have to leave the farm to become food?
Not all animals can be slaughtered on farm. Farmers are bound by state and federal regulations in how their animals can be processed. Sometimes this is a good thing, because it helps prevent cruel or unclean slaughter of animals. At other times it seems more like a bunch of red tape designed to hurt small farmers and the animals they raise. Why is it that after carefully raising an animal, making sure that it eats the food it evolved to eat, has space to engage in natural behaviors, and good veterinary care if it becomes sick or injured, that we’re okay with packing it into a hot metal box and shipping it hours away to be killed? Doesn’t it seem like there should be a better way?
Transportation issues don’t come up much in debates around the ethics of meat (I was happily surprised when the day after I made my decision my dad sent me a NY Times article on the subject). We consider the way animals are raised and the way they die and that’s it. While those are both important, we really lose something when we fail to consider the step in between. How does the animal get from the farm to the slaughter house? How long does it take? How packed in are they during the trip? How are they handled when they are loaded into and taken off of the truck?
In many places, it’s hard to find any slaughter facility that’s willing to take a limited number of animals from a small farming operation, let alone one that you know is conscientious in how it handles the animals. Finding one that’s local as well can be almost impossible. This means a long, uncomfortable, and probably scary journey for farm animals. And unfortunately, it’s a journey that doesn’t have the happiest of endings.
Now, I don’t want to anthropomorphize farm animals too much. But I do think that big mammals such as pigs, cows, goats, and sheep are perfectly capable of feeling fear, pain, and boredom. Temple Grandin, one of the leaders in animal science and animal welfare, has been quoted as saying, “I think using animals for food is an ethical thing to do, but we’ve got to do it right. We’ve got to give those animals a decent life and we’ve got to give them a painless death. We owe the animal respect.” In her book Animals Make Us Human, she explains some of the psychology and behavioral science that can be used to improve animal welfare for livestock animals (as well as household pets).
Fortunately, Grandin isn’t the only person who is trying to improve the way we raise, transport, and slaughter our meat. Mobile processing plants for poultry are popping up around the country and allowing small scale farmers to process their chickens and turkeys without having to leave their farms. Not only is this cost effective, but it’s easier on the animals who don’t have to be confined in vehicles for long periods of time. Pioneers like Jennifer Hashley are helping to make mobile processing viable for farmers in Massachusetts and other states where slaughter facilities are few and far between. They are also allowing volunteers to help with processing, which means that more people can come face to face with their food and decide if this is something they are comfortable eating.
For the moment, I’m giving up everything but seafood. In the summer, when it’s possible to get locally raised and slaughtered poultry, I’ll enjoy that. Maybe someday I’ll be able to enjoy pork or beef that was both raised and slaughtered with thoughtfulness and care. But not yet.