Little piggies

July 7^th

DISCLAIMER: If you are squeamish about blood and guts do not continue with this blog. Seriously.

Today I got to witness a pig get killed and butchered. I have never seen anything like this before. I’m from Southern California. I’m pretty sure that some of my friends back home have never even seen a pig in real life and don’t  know that they have long bristly hair and make horrible death squeals (when no one is even bothering them).

 I’m in the environment sector, with a title like “agroforestry director of planning and planting” … or something like that (not really). I never got around to remembering because it really doesn’t matter. Anyway, a lot of my friends in the group have experience on farms and some of them have raised, killed and butchered animals. Not me. My mom brought home a baby chick one day (I don’t really know what she was thinking). I placed it on my cat so that it could ride him like a horse. That didn’t happen. I bawled. I had a funeral. Cats and dogs? Ya, I can do that. Chickens and pigs? wahhhh?? Looking back on that I wonder what my mom would have done when the chick started getting bigger. There was barely space for the cat. I think she didn’t think things through, like me with the chick, but I was 10. What was her excuse for creating a scarring moment in her child’s life? Ha, nah just kidding. I’m fine, Ma.

Now, back to the reason why I started this very special entry. I’ve skipped the kindle this time and have had to come to an internet café just to make sure you all can see the pictures.

As I walked to the kitchen to pour myself some cereal for breakfast someone yelled to me to put on my slippers and come to the killing bed. Oh, and to bring my camera. Wait. No, that can’t be right. “wait, wahh? To where, now?” I didn’t think I was hearing right. I put on my sandals, grabbed my camera and went to the backyard where the men were tying up the pig to pull it to a tree.

Let me just say, I’m not putting up these pictures and telling you this story to gross you out (well maybe a tiny bit) or for you to think that I am some horrible person that takes pleasure in the suffering and killing of animals. Where do you think your meat came from? Those factory farms are not nearly as nice as this. And the suffering of those animals goes on a lot longer than the few moments this pig felt before it got knocked out. And don’t forget the human and environmental suffering as well. (Rant over). I’m showing and telling because it was a really interesting experience and I thought that’s what you all wanted to hear!

I’m going to skip the killing part now that I look at the pictures. Someone else took pictures of that part. I couldn’t even watch. But there was an ax, squealing, a knife and loads of blood. This blood here:

It’s like from a horror movie.

They scraped off the hair

And hung it up

Innards. I decided to skip the pictures of the guts spewing out from within because maybe they are little graphic for some.

Two halves of a whole.

I really wanted to show more but then I realized that maybe it was a little too much blood and guts. You get the picture anyway. These men worked quickly and skillfully. It was amazing to see the butcher put his knife in just the right spot to drain the blood and not damage anything.  I thought it was going to be more gruesome but after the killing it was really interesting to watch them work. I told a friend of mine about how I was watching this being done and he said something like “it makes you not want to eat pork anymore right?” But it’s the opposite. I haven’t eaten pork in a really long time but if I knew that the pig was raised and killed like this than I have no problem with it.

Alright so on a lighter note; at my group meeting tonight they had a game where the kids had to find bible verses and since I forgot my bible :/ I sat and doodled and I came up with this poem to share with you:

See the wind make things go

Not unlike the rain makes things grow

Let’s go

Let’s grow

Let’s become more, more, more