This morning, before the sun rises over the mountain ridge, Mom and Dad will be out in the back field, quietly gathering up broilers, loading them into crates, putting them on the back of the Mule, and driving them over to the processing shed, where Bob and Clint will join them, throw back a cup of coffee, and then begin to process them for meat.
Clint will hang them one by one upside down in cones that hold them in a comforting embrace while he slits their throats and allows them to bleed out over a trough. Mom will then scald them in hot water, and run them through a plucker. Afterward, the birds will land on a stainless steel table where Dad will eviscerate them, Bob will remove the kidneys, lungs and testicles, then flush out their body cavities with fresh water, carefully work over each bird to be sure there are no stray feathers, then truss the legs, and set them in a cold water bath to chill. Before 11 am this morning, 150 peaceful creatures will undergo a transformation from living animal to food.
Two days out of every month in the growing season, we process chickens at Sap Bush Hollow. The licenses we hold for our facility authorize us to process 20,000 birds per year. The market demand for pastured poultry suggests we could potentially near that number and still not satisfy public hunger for fresh local chicken. But by October, we will only process 1,700 chickens to be sold to our local customers. And we will be done. Two days of slaughter per month is about all we can take.
Clint, the butcher who comes to help us on processing days, is of a similar mindset. He is short on words, but sure with his knife. He is my age, and he could easily find work full time as a butcher. But he prefers to ply his trade with less regularity, working for the local farmers as we need him, then filling the interstices of his time repairing buildings and equipment, hauling animals, occasionally teaching. In the long hours we spend together boning out lamb shanks and cutting kabobs, he confesses his reasons: he can only take so much slaughter. Like us, he can’t face it every day, either.
Conversely, Dusky, Saoirse and Ula’s one-year-old 11 pound terrier mix, shares a different view. Earlier this summer, upon turning my back on her briefly, she wriggled her way through some fencing, and joyfully dispatched 12 of the girls’ laying hens in less than 15 minutes. I caught her in the act with the final bird, gleefully shaking it by the neck, thrilled with the chase, the capture, the kill. I shook her in rage, and the girls and I sat and cried for a solid hour at the senseless death of all those lovely birds. Dusky had the decency to look remorseful. But unlike us, her remorse centered around the fact that her masters were sad and angry. It had absolutely nothing to do with the dead chickens.
And that is the difference about being human. Like Dusky, we are predators. We have eyes on the front of our heads, enabling us to stalk prey. We have nutritional needs that appear well-sated when our bodies are fed meat. But unlike Dusky, we have a conscience. The idea of killing an animal is distressing.
We are also a very clever species. Since killing for survival eats at our conscience, we’ve developed mechanisms that separate us from our food system. In the industrialized system, the factories and feedlots that produce the livestock don’t see them go any further than the truck that hauls them to the meat plant. The workers never come to know the animals they slaughter as individuals. The consumers who eat the products never see more than dismembered parts, plucked, gutted, skinned, and typically de-boned, wrapped in plastic and displayed under bright lights. At that point, the imagination that is unique to human beings comes into play, where an astounding number of people can then eat meat and pretend they had nothing to do with the death and suffering of an animal. The process is, quite literally, de-humanized. Animals can move through it, and the humans have become detached from what goes on. In this industrialized system, the human conscience is no longer present to connect with the spirit of the animal that sustains our life.
For some folks, the conscience still weighs heavy, and they choose to forego eating animals all together. But death still comes. The carrot has a life before we chomp it, the soil is teaming with microbes sacrificed to the vegetables, the raspberries flourish best when fed a diet of animal blood. It seems to me that not even vegetables are vegetarians.
The simple truth is that, to stay alive, all living creatures must kill. Life and death are inextricably linked, and forever in service to each other. Farmers and homesteaders get into the business because we are drawn to the life side of the equation. We love to feel the vibrant sponginess of fresh grass and microbe-rich soil beneath our toes. We can sit for hours and watch livestock traverse our fields, happy to see them play, explore, and express their true animal nature. We can study the life of soil endlessly, and continuously discover new mysteries. When lambing and calving season are upon us, we throw tremendous amounts of emotional and physical energy into ensuring every newborn’s survival. We love the babies. We love the mamas.
If a farmer does not finish out the cycle with these animals, then he or she is not a farmer, but merely a hungry zoo keeper. Sooner or later, someone is going to have to kill something, because people do need to eat.
The slaughter is hard. It is sad. Those of us who have been in the business for a while can cultivate a few callouses to help steady our nerves for the process, but guiding a living creature into death still weighs on the human conscience. And at Sap Bush Hollow, we’ve learned we can only take so much. So instead of 20,000 chickens, we do 1700. Instead of 50 head of cattle, we do 10. Instead of 1000 lambs, we do 100. Instead of 500 pigs, we do 15. They are carefully chosen numbers. This is the volume that our land can sustain. This is the volume that gives our family enough money to live. This is the amount of slaughter we can tolerate.
And so, Sap Bush Hollow cannot feed the world with what we do. But we feed about 600 families every year. And after that, there are other farmers. There are other homesteaders. And if they can work with manageable, small numbers, where they can give their livestock a good life and a comfortable death, their conscience can handle it, too. The scale of life and death becomes manageable, and we all get to eat.
This post was written by Shannon Hayes, author of
This is a beautiful post, Shannon. Thank you for it, and thank you for your work in the world.
Hard to read. Harder to own being part of this cycle, as one of your 600 families. Thank you for holding us accountable, even vicariously for this exchange of life.
When — if — we say a grace before meals, it will always be important not only to “thank God for the bounty” but to thank the animal whose life we take that ours may be sustained. Most native peoples know to do this. Perhaps if we remember to do so, we will be more conscious about a lot of other things as well.
OMG, I so understand. I have hens for eggs that are getting older and I feel bad about looming need to slaughter. I did see that it’s possible for hens to still lay eggs while being really old.
This is a difficult subject to approach and you wrote about it well and with honesty. Most of us eat meat and those that just buy that meat from the store have distanced themselves from the process that brings them that meat. Likely we do this in a form of denial because it is easiest. What we don’t see we don’t have to think about. I personally believe that plant life is also alive and worthy of the same respect for feeding us, even though it does not squeal when I pick it. I respect the Native American way, thanking the animal and giving something back to the Earth, most often tabacco, a sacred plant.
We slaughtered our rooster a couple of weeks ago, also using a cone. Both my husband and I knew for some time that it was coming, as the rooster had become too aggressive. It had been many years since we had slaughtered anything, and we didn’t look forward to it. But I had become very reluctant to even go in the chicken yard after he’d jumped at my face one time recently, while I was doling out compost yummies.
It could not have gone better. My husband went in the coop early in the morning and caught him. One the rooster was caught he became quiet. We put him upside down in the cone–we had seen cones in use a lot when we lived in Mexico, where live birds are killed and plucked at the street markets. As Kelly slit his the rooster’s throat, I felt very calm and accepting of the cycles of life that had led to this. I said a little prayer.
We pulled the skin off, rather than plucking, cut him into pieces, and boiled him for 8 hours. He was 15 months old and by the evening we had several quarts of absolutely delicious broth and a bunch of small bags of shredded meat, too tough for our tastes, though I could have done something with it in our heavy-duty blender. But we like to give our dogs some meat with their dinners, and they thought it was great.
When it’s again time to dispatch one or more of our flock, I don’t think I’ll dread it.
Terrific, Shannon, as always. We raise cattle here at High Lonesome Farm and they are slaughtered and processed for freezer beef. We have a few years experience behind us but while we may have “cultivate[d] a few callouses” the slaughter is still a heart- and gut-wrenching event. I expect it to always be so. There really aren’t any salves for this. Any sort of “excuse” rings pretty hollow. The best one I’ve heard (so far) comes from Michael Pollan in “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” where he suggests that when an animal has lived a great life on a grass-based farm under the care of a emotionally invested, physically and spiritually involved farmer, that animal’s end at slaughter is far superior to what would likely be the extended pain and suffering of a “natural” death, or worse, death at the hands of a predator. I want to echo Joellyn’s thoughts regarding giving thanks. When we sit down to enjoy our beef we always thank the Lord AND the animal, BY NAME. Onward, Folks, and bless you all.
I was sent this wonderful article by Rachel Herbert of Trail’s End Beef. I will post it on my Facebook page tomorrow it is called “EOM-Ethical Omnivore Movement” website http://www.ethicalomnivoremovement.com
Thank you for this post, it was well written and very tender.
Thank you Shannon for expressing exactly what I feel when we go to harvest our own 50 birds a year.
Thank you Shannon, for sharing your beautiful consideration of the circle of life on a farm. It is heartening to know that what we, as part of the 600 families, are blessed to be a part of your life story. I am renewed every time I visit Sapbush Farm.
Thank you for sharing this. Our neighbor at our place up north had decided that Rusty the rooster was getting to be too hard on the hens. It took a while but he finally decided that the time had come to do something about it. That morning he attempted to catch him but couldn’t. Later in the day there was a loud ruckus out by the garage and something had made off with 3 hens and Rusty. All that was left was feathers. Billie thought she saw two “somethings” running off into the surrounding woods. Probably coyotes. But Jim doesn’t have too much of a problem with the killing I guess…last week he dispatched 15 rabbits in a day and Billie canned them. I’m glad he won’t be getting any more though. I could never be a proper farmer I guess.
Very moving article. So interesting to read the point of view from the farmer.
You’ve written a thorough and articulate summation of the current state of affairs with the industrial revolution and dependance of most on grocery stores for food. As a very new homesteading farmer, I face my first slaughter of my own meat birds in the coming days and approach it with some fear, hesitation and pride in taking the steps to become accountable for getting in touch with my food supply ( at least a portion of it ).
At this point I am realistic to think this will be difficult emotionally, but the rational part of me knows that if I did not raise these birds someone else would have. I am happy to have provided them with good clean, warm accomodations, daily access to forage, enjoy sunshine, fresh air and clean water.
I am scared but I am doing it for my own betterment and that of my family. Thank you for your inspiring words, wisdom and insight.
Yep, thank you for this post. My family processed our first 50 chickens earlier this year. It was a very long, very emotionally draining day. We weren’t in love with the chickens, didn’t particularly enjoy the raising — Cornish Cross, they are like alien birds… And still it was draining.
Killing a living creature is a very sobering thing to do. Everyone should partake in killing the food they are going to eat at least once. It changes you, that’s for sure. Thanks again.
My family and are the somewhat unusual breed of vegetarian farmers. We keep layer chickens for eggs and bees for honey in addition to growing vegetables, all of which we produce for our own use and sell the excess to friends and by word-of-mouth. While we chose not to eat meat long ago (I gave it up at age 11), we have always respected farmers who raise and process animals with respect and in an humane manner and encourage our meat-eating friends to support such enterprises versus factory-farmed meat. Unlike many vegetarians, we do not promote the idea that the world become vegetarian as we believe most strongly in freedom of choice and feel people have a right to eat meat, if they so choose. We do not think that anyone, individual or corporate farmers, have the right to treat animals with disrespect or as faceless, unfeeling beings. Doing anything having to do with the life of another creature demands the utmost respect and you and your family are shining examples of this. Thank you for this post.
I’m curious, why do humans “need” meat to be healthy? It seems that we have many options for protein that are not animal-based.
I agree with what you wrote and what Fred also said so well (as he always does). We tell people that the animals at our place, Peaceful By Nature Farm, live a calm, natural life in a peaceful setting and only have 1 really bad day that they will not remember or suffer very long through.
Thank you for the post. You said much of what I feel. I make the decision to attend the deaths of my cattle that I have processed for beef. I want to see that their end is “easy” and I want to thank God for their lives at the time of the end, and I thank the animal for providing for my well-being. I have done what I can to make their lives “happy” and favored with the good things their nature needs. At the same time, it IS hard for me, and for many (surely more than half), I shed a tear. In some cases, I have prayed for the animal before even sending him into the corral to be caught to be loaded. It is not really a sentiment so much as it is a sharing of the experience, even though I am the “predator” who has planned it. I hope the animal’s death is as painless as possible, and I want the one who dispatches him to know that I care about him and to avoid whatever laughter and carelessness might arise without my presence. I want to make sure the animal is not “hot-shotted” into the killing cage. I believe that my emotional pain is the proper price. Though I often don’t name the ones I plan from the get-go to use for meat (instead of breeding), I also have taken to the processor those I’ve been “close to” as something akin to a pet. Those who euthanize their companion pets, or agonize over final treatments to prolong their lives, also know the pain of an animal’s death and carry the burden of responsibility. Outside callousness, the alternative to feeling this pain is to avoid interacting with other species. I appreciate KNOWING these creatures and having stewardship for them.
Marcia – we humans need much more than just the ‘big three’ macronutrients of protein, fat and carbohydrate and micronutrients of vitamins, minerals and organic acids. We are amazingly adaptable, and it is indeed possible to live a healthy life as a vegan – it is just very difficult to do so. Even many who choose not to eat meat as such ingest animal proteins in the form of fish, eggs and/or dairy. If you REALLY want a horror story, look up just what ‘Soy protein isolate’ actually is, and why it was considered industrial waste until they started marketing it as a food additive!
This was an awesome piece explaining the way we feel. You are gifted. I hope someday to aspire to your level of skill.
Aww shucks, Troy. You are already there. Keep it honest and from the heart and stay true to the cause, my dear friend!
Thank you Shannon for expressing so beautifully what so many of us feel and experience.
I’ve only recently found your blog; this is a beautifully written essay, thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and clarity in how you have presented these ideas. And I am full of respect for the choices you and your family and friends have made that keep both your eyes and your hearts open. (More slaughter would mean more money. _And it’s not worth it._ This is what our industrial food system ignores.) This is the issue where my deepest held Buddhist ethics crash up against my permaculture training and all the sense that makes of the world. I agonised over this for years, once I began eating meat after decades of vegetarianism and declining health. I guess I’ve learnt to live with the choice, because it’s clear to me now that choosing to buy animals from organic farmers which are then killed on site by a professional butcher is the best choice I can make as an omnivore who is not a livestock farmer. Not just for me, because that’s not enough, but for the farmers, the community, the animals, the wider environment.
Great post, I admire your family’s decision to process enough animals to make a living, and not give in to greed and do the maximum the law permits. You don’t allow making money to take priority over the well being of the animals.
My mother tells me how she remembers when growing up in Holyoke Massachusettes her grandmother going to the backyard to get a chicken from the small flock. She’d wring it’s neck, and that was dinner along with vegetables from the garden and homemade bread. I am in awe of this great-grandmother I never met, who learned when she was a girl in Ireland from her mother and grandmother how to feed your family from the land and your own hands.
My mother always got chicken from the grocery store, and we didn’t have a garden.
I cannot support factory farming, and don’t have the land to raise meat birds, but do want my family to have this excellent source of protein that I believe we have evolved to eat. So I thank goddess for the nearby farmers who raise and slaughter the animals in a natural and humane setting on their family farms. I am thankful that they do the “dirty work” that I’m not sure I could handle. I thank them verbally, and also monetarily by gladly paying the somewhat higher price for their meat than you’d pay in a grocery store- it’s truly worth it.