Meat

I don’t know why I eat meat.  Not really.  I was a vegetarian (actually an ovo-lacto-pesco-vegetarian) while my first son was an infant.  I thought it made sense from an ecological perspective, still do.  Keep in mind, this is around age 20; I was eager to “come out” and get a little attention for a short while.

 My dad asked, “You’ll still be able to eat fried fish right?”

I was automatically aggravated.  How could he possibly be worried about traditions and greasy food when I was doing something so important?  I was selflessly making a statement about my morality with how I lived!

I like to be proficient with my hands and I’ve studied animal anatomy professionally all my adult life.  I’m a wizard with poultry slaughter.  I butchered a turkey a few days ago.  First I made sure that my butcher hatchet was sharper and came to a finer point than the blades of my firewood tools.  

I’ve been raising these turkeys from chicks that I had to pick up at the Lake City Post Office.  Until the last week of their lives, I free range the birds and they get to be turkeys.  They get to fight and gobble and scratch and make mistakes and be cold and feel better and be warm; until they die.

 I chopped off her head as quickly as possible and hanged her from a fence post.  The icy ground below her severed neck turned red and my Pyrenees, Scooter knew that there was a situation of interest.  He got the head.  Scooter doesn’t really thank me for his food and he shouldn’t, he is integral to this farm.  Without the dogs, the coyotes would take everything in one night.  Now, I don’t know if that’s precisely true, but I can’t test it. 

The turkey was scalded at about 150 F. Feathers were plucked. Feet and wing tips and tail gland removed. Eviscerated. This takes one hour.

At some point during this process, the animal transforms into a specimen and then into food.  I don’t know how this works so don’t ask.  The birds stay in the freezer until we forget their names and then we eat them.

I honestly don’t like meat.  I’m still a closeted apologetic sometimes vegetarian.  I make up excuses like, “oh, meat hurts my teeth” or “I ate some while I was cooking.”  

I wanted to be able to do 100 chin ups.  I can now (over the course of one day) but I had to lose my fat and gain ten pounds of muscle.  I used peanut butter for my protein source.  Maybe I’ve mentioned the “Dad balls” recipe that has all the seeds in it.  It seems disrespectful or sacrilegious or something to use animal flesh for my vanity or to build self esteem! 

Surely though, if I’m raising a turkey to feed the growing bodies of my family, surely it’s a good use of a turkey’s life.  Wouldn’t any of us happily trade our lives to nourish the young?  Who asks the turkey? Who interprets the answer?  How about this for a farmer’s wish:  I cared deeply for your food before it was food.  Spend it wisely.

Maybe I eat meat because I have power (sometimes earned, usually not).  I can impose my will on my pre-food with impunity. 

Any writing assignment needs a quote from a great author:  “Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.”  Kurt Vonnegut describes foma as “harmless untruths.”  I guess the trick is deciding if I need to rewrite my foma to make them more harmless or eliminate them by making them true.