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The Rancher

You know how I sometimes talk with nostalgia about growing up in a rural farm town and being a farm girl?  I was never a farm girl.  My parents had 7 acres where my dad played farmer for nearly 30 years but it was more of a hobby of his.  Once away from home, I was kind of going for the more sophisticated look.  I looked stupid(er) when someone cracked jokes about Rocky Mountain Oysters. Why would I know what they were?

My parents wanted to raise stuff so they tried out alfalfa and a series of different animals.  They really raised kids and rocks.  Both of those things grew like weeds.  And weeds.  They grew, too.

When I was an early teen they decided to raise a few cows.  I thought it was pretty cool when we had SEVEN cows (cue Johnny Lingo music).  We were ranchers, now.  On the other hand, I was seeking that sophistication which was terribly difficult to attain when 1) I had to ride a bus to school and 2) I'd have to tell the bus driver to let me out.  The stupid cows were out again and blocking the road.  I got to chase them back into the field using whatever stick or rake I could find.  I always got stuff on my shoes or pants.  Definitely not sophisticated.

Then the realization of the purpose of cows came home one day.  We were going to eat them.  In order to eat them, they had to be dead.  Never name an animal you are going to eat.  Next thing I know, I discover I'm a vegetarian.  Now I'm not a farm girl nor am I sophisticated.  I'm just sad.

Over the years I have introduced some meat into my diet, although I've not been able to stomach beef very well.  Chicken and turkey don't have those pretty, sad eyes.  I can eat that.

Before Thanksgiving I bought a turkey because it was so cheap.  I love a good sale.  It took a few days to thaw when I took it out of the freezer.  I cooked it today.  It was very beautiful and I took a moment to admire it.  Unfortunately, I took too long of a moment and I realized I was the only person awake and I had to carve it.  Mostly I just picked it off the bone and kept visualizing what part of the live turkey I was poking my fingers into.  I'd also smeared butter between the skin and the muscle meat with sage, rosemary, and thyme and stuffed more of the green stuff into the cavity through its butt.

As I finally picked the last of the greasy meat off the carcass and swallowed the bile that kept rising in my throat, I realized that turkeys, chickens and cows are all safe once again.

Turkey, anyone?

Comments

  1. I had that problem with fish. They look up at you, for crying out loud. The first time I had to cut and cook a fresh whole fish I sobbed and had to be rescued.

    Almost every new thing we cook (first rabbits, first sheep, first pig, first goat) leaves me weak and nauseous and a bit sad.

    Unfortunately I can't afford to be a vegetarian so I grit and bear it.
    We only eat meat about 3 times a week anyway.

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  2. The eyes are gone when the meat comes from the store - the animals are raised for the purpose of providing food, so they are products, not creatures.

    This mass delusion seems to work for most of us.

    When I see a cooked turkey, I think of all the meals it can provide for my family...the other creatures that have eyes and faces who need me to provide for them.

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  3. I will not eat meat off a bone. It just disgusts me!

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  4. That line of thinking always gets me in trouble and leaves me eating a salad. My "shrink-wrapped block of protein from the store" concept/mind game definition of meat only goes so far...

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  5. I haven't eaten red meat, or the other white meat (pigies) since I was 11 and went on strike. It was the whole pets turning into food thing that got me too. My parents butchered my pet goat (poor little Billy, so sad) and that was it for me. I was a vegetarian until I was 20 then I started eating birds and fish because my husband needed a compromise. I can't think about it to much though. I use to be really sensitive about meat eating, when I was a teen and working at a fast food place, I had to flip burgers and I started crying. Ha, ha...you should have seen the looks I got...

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  6. I keep thinking if I had to kill my own meat, I would certainly be a vegetarian. And then I wonder if perhaps I should be anyway because whenever I really think about it, it makes my stomach churn. Problem is, I wouldn't have a clue where to begin cooking without meat. I make one rice and beans dish. That's it.

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  7. I agree with Mamma Christine. I wouldn't be able to eat anything I raise! I'd consider them more like pets. I don't eat much meat.. I like a good steak once in a while but I don't like bird meat!


    clothedmuch.blogspot.com

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