Apologies for the rambling nature of this post. I had tried several times to tidy everything up into something that would flow nicely and make sense, but I haven't quite gotten to that point. Perhaps it is fitting because we are still learning and perfecting this animal processing business, and most of the time, I feel a little discombobulated anyway. These thoughts have been rattling around in my head for quite some time, so I thought, I might as well put it down and hope for the best.
As of last week, we have had three butchering/animal processing events on our farm. Twice we have butchered pigs. Once, ducks.
Each event has been a time for learning, for harvesting quality sustenance, and an opportunity to really consider what it means to raise what we eat.
I used to work for Women, Infants and Children (WIC), a service provided by the federal government to ensure that low-income women who are pregnant or nursing and infants and children through the age of five, would receive proper nutrition and counseling because those were the years where growth and development is critical. One of our education classes focused on food, knowing where your food came from and buying to insure that quality food would be in the market instead of the mass-produced, barbaric, commercial "farming"practices that have become industrial norm. I don't think that this was the best program to present to families of limited income--I know everyone wants to provide quality food for their loved ones, but when you don't have the resources to put any kind of food on the table... where do you even start to be able to get the best food? I will admit that in terms of how I buy food for my family, it is mostly quantity over quality. Logically, I understand that the grass-fed, free-range, organic food is going to be nutritionally superior, but the money in my wallet says that I cannot and will not triple our food budget in order to get the amount of food of that quality to feed my kids. Even on my husband's Silicon Valley income and with all the variety of stores that were available to us in the Bay Area, it was something we couldn't afford for most of what we ate. *sigh* this is an entirely different conversation...
I was once handed a pamphlet walking through Sproul Plaza during my undergraduate years at UC Berkeley. It was a trifold, full color brochure on thick cardstock showing the disgusting conditions that farm animals were kept in to keep our monstrous, carnivorous appetites appeased. It didn't help that I was eating chicken strips at the time this was handed to me... but I read through the brochure, nonetheless. I am not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination. Aside from the times of the year where I fast from meat and dairy because of religious reasons, I pretty much eat from all the major food groups in liberal portions. But this brochure was disgusting. I had no intention of becoming a vegetarian or vegan, but I did want to eat in a way that was sustainable for the environment, fair to the animals, and easy on my wallet, too.
Living on our own farm, we finally had the means to raise animals for meat in conditions we could control. Did you know that a commercial sow for a pig farm stands in a pen that is the width and length of her body? She has no ability to move. She gives birth and the piglets suckle her and she cannot even turn her head to see her little ones. Chickens stand or lay in cages. They cannot even stretch their wings, and some never see sunlight. And whatever animal it is, is given antibiotics and vaccines to combat the malignant cesspool of bacteria and viruses and other microbes that grow where poop and food and water and blood all mix together. Our piglets, when we first get them, are scared. It is a new place, new smells, new people they have never encountered. But then they discover the soft ground and start rooting around immediately prancing through the bit of brush in their pen and discovering a new trough and water. They snort in satisfaction when they discover a particularly delicious nugget of nosh and wallow in glee in a puddle.
I have spent many afternoons watching our birds. The Pekin duck couple likes to cuddle under the walnut tree and preen each other near the leaky sprinkler. Our rooster has a particular swagger when he finally discovers the juicy caterpillar I threw into their pen because it's been devouring my pepper plants. And the other chickens chase after him trying to get a little nibble. The big blue-headed bourbon turkey struts and shivers its feathers when the kids go into the orchard looking for eggs. He's protecting his mate, and his blue head goes even darker as he puffs himself up and makes sure we understand he is boss. And my poor, dumb guineas: the "moustache birds" as my toddler calls them, are the ever-squawking alarm system during the day. They are happy and content to stretch their wings and make their noise and move around, scratching up the ground, eating the bugs and living as they were meant to.
And then...
Butchering day is a hard day. It is never fun to end the life of a living thing. We face each death with grim understanding and respect to the animal that will be put down so that we can eat. Days start early because processing always takes longer than one would expect, and the quiet, gray cool of morning matches the mood we feel. We try to do everything at once, as painless and as quickly as possible. It is easier to process many animals than one animal at a time.
There is always a sort of silence that lingers immediately after the kill, and then a quick bustle of activity as we jump into action. We have always had neighbors to help and give them a share of the bounty. I was afraid that the children would be scared or disgusted by the process, but was surprised, and thankful that they quickly understood. The adults explain that we raised the animals the best that we could. We give them a healthy, happy life and act as stewards for them. And then when they are killed, we make sure that their meat doesn't go to waste. We eat and are grateful. It is a food cycle that they take to heart and appreciate at every step. Too many drakes or roosters can cause bloody conflict in a flock and the females cannot brood properly to sit on their eggs. Pigs that are not sows for birthing piglets can become enormous and dangerous (Imagine trying to get into a pen with a 1,000+ pound pig). It is not as sterile or as easy as just picking up a plastic-wrapped package of chicken or beef. Feathers get everywhere. You have to have a plan for what to do with the viscera and other discards. And for whatever reason, butchering day has always been on some insane heat wave, so we are all sweating and working against the rising of the sun, fending off meat bees and trying to keep everything cold and clean. But my children have an acute understanding of why and how and where their food came from. I suppose we have the option of having our animals to be butchered by someone else, but this causes them a great deal of stress. When an animal goes to a slaughterhouse, big or small, they smell the fear and the blood of the other animals, and their last hours are stressful to say the least. When we do the work, they are butchered at home. They never feel stress, except for a split second, and the other animals do not experience that secondary trauma. I think at another point in time, it would be feasible to become a vegetarian because you grow attached to these animals. Death is always difficult to look in the face. But for now, it is not right for us, and we do the best that we can for our animals.
The first time we butchered pigs, we read the chapter in Little House in the Big Woods where Pa and their uncle butcher a hog. This seemed to set the right tone for the little ones. It was an experience that was part of every day life, and so my children took it on as another part of being on a farm. (Thankfully, they did not ask us to make them a bladder ball, though.) They gathered around the carcass as it was hung and eviscerated. They learned anatomy, separating skin from fat, identifying organs, bones, tissue, and their functions; they saw the equipment used and their purposes: cleaver, bone saw, boning knife, scraping tools. They quickly adapted to hygiene procedures: washing hands after touching meat or equipment, keeping viscera separate from meat, keeping things cold, and making sure flying pests and other bugs did not gather. It was a homeschooling lesson that I hadn't considered, but happy for the rich rewards. My husband and our neighbor struggled to process a 300+ pound pig. We learned a lot from this process: how we would change the pulleys, what other equipment would be needed for next time, how to get a large enough hot water bath, how to better cool the meat, where to wash up, etc. It took us days to get everything wrapped and packaged and stored properly. And then began the sausage making, bacon curing, ham smoking. But the pig fed our family for a full year. We try and limit our meat consumption to what we or people we know raise. The more I learn about the commercial food industry, the more I am certain that this is the right direction for our family.
We currently have a freezer full of pork and duck that will keep us and our loved ones well-fed for a long time. We have chickens and possibly a cow to process in the future. It is sad to see the animals that you raise be processed. But it is rewarding to see the result of that effort, to raise a generation of children who understands the value of life and death, to be nourished by healthy, sustainable, quality meat, and to do all of this within the confines of their home. Our home.
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