The Worst Thing I Saw All Week
While photographing a wind turbine at the dead-end driveway of a farmhouse, I turned at the noise of a chainsaw. I expected to see a fallen tree but instead I saw this fallen beast:
The farmer’s chainsaw must have been heavy because when he cut down as far as his arms would allow, he used the forklift to raise the carcass and then got back to it.
I am a lazy vegetarian. If you cook for me I will eat meat. If left to my own devices or handed a menu, I will not. In fact, now that I’m a breastfeeding mother I think it is weird and wrong that we drink cow’s milk, milk that is only meant for calves. But then . . . cheese.
There is something so awful about seeing an animal strung up and butchered that I’m considering a stronger commitment to vegetarianism. I gave up shrimp easily, can’t I avoid beef as well? I don’t watch PETA videos and I’ve become a bit of a pansy on food industry documentaries, so seeing it happen it in front of my eyes, hearing it, so unexpectedly – it made me sick to my stomach. Yes, the face was my tipping point, the thing that made the whole scene turn butcher to barbarian.
And then there was the herd in waiting, all nose-to-tail next to the executioner’s platform:
I snapped these pics and got the hell out of there. Farrah was with me after all and I did not want any type of confrontation. I had seen enough. And perhaps I have seen enough. Maybe this is the push off the fence I need, to get out of the barn and into the field once and for all.