Along time ago in a land far away there lived a fine steer named Harold or was it Hank ? Howie? Anyway he had name and we knew what it was back in 1993. He was our very first beef. Keith bought him from his boss at the time. He was a sickly calf and not expected to live and on that big farm, time was not wasted trying to save an animal. So Keith brought him home to our little rental farm and we all pitched in.
With 2 adults and 4 kids to help feed Herbert, he grew well. He was also very tame and loveable. Keith taught him to stand on some concrete blocks with his front feet and then reeeeeeach over the fence with his neck to get a treat.
Then it was time to take him to the locker. Even the farmer man had a hard time loading him. A few weeks later Horace came home, all wrapped up in shiny white freezer paper. Only Keith could eat him, heck I couldn't even COOK him let alone swallow him. So, lessons were learned. We don't name the ones we eat.
There are exceptions. Occasionally we get a bad sow. One that buries her piglets alive. One named Morticia. I have no problem whatsoever eating that big fat pig. In fact I will ask for her by name .
"Hey, while you're in the store will you brink up some Morticia chops? Thanks Honey."
But the rule does apply for these two bird brains
To your left the dainty Banana, a Blue Slate Turkey. To your right is her friend since they were little hatchlings, Sunset, a Black Spaniard, I mean Spanish. We got both of them as gifts at about 1 day old and they became pets immediately. So much so that they really freak out some of our customers as they follow them around the farm, and then hop up on their car hoods to grab some engine heat.
They even like the occasional cuddle
So, even though we make our living raising and selling meat, and even though Sunset here has been raised on all natural grains, bugs, worms and would taste WONDERFUL this Thanksgiving...he has been pardoned.
Yes, Banana too.
I think I was there on the day the poults were dropped off. They were in a very small basket wrapped in a towel. Does this mean I'm becoming a part of the family?
ReplyDeleteCouldn't you affectionately call them such as 'That evil bastard' or 'Old pointy fangs'? Eating a chop from 'Growler' would be much easier than from 'Tiggy-wiggy-woggy-itchy-witchy'. N'est pas?
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't be able to eat Hortone--Herbert--Howard, either. Uhh, well, it helps that I'm a vegetarian, but even in the old meat-eatin' days, I doubt I could look at something I raised from a day old and eat it :)
ReplyDeleteThe turkeys are cute, I am sure they are thankful for the pardon!
We learned that exact same lesson with a sow named Blueberry. After that if critters got named it was "Pork Chop" or "Bacon". Then there was the litter of pigs that escaped, ran wild all one summer and was finally captured with the help of a .22. Their names are not printable, especially after a neighbor kid chased them through the house one day.
ReplyDeleteLOLOLOL! I learned the naming lesson from others, so we knew what not to do when we got our first critters. I did have a friend once, who's kids begged to name their calves. Like Sal mentioned, they were only allowed to name them things like "stew", "hamburger", or "pot roast." The calf had a name, but everyone was very clear on why this wasn't a pet.
ReplyDeleteThe cat looks like it might like to try a taste.
ReplyDeleteMy kids loved seeing the turkey hop on the hood, then slowly walk towards the windshield. My youngest may have been a little nervous being that he was buckled into his car seat and had no escape though. HA!
ReplyDeleteOur Bourbon Red Fred and Lucy have been pardoned this Thanksgiving. But we have 4 no-namers that won't be as lucky...
ReplyDeleteWe learned our lesson the same way you did, but with a lamb named Mutton. To this day, I've never tasted lamb and have no plan to anytime soon!
Oh I know what you mean Donna.
ReplyDeleteI have two roosters that could really do with an oven vacation but as I've named them I'm having a hard time doing the deed.
We do name our animals. And still eat them. Actually, I was surprised at my kids that it totally didn't bother them. We would be munching away on some form of pork and someone would ask who it was and someone else would answer. Heads would nod and munching would continue. I know. Weird, huh?
ReplyDeleteMy parents once fed two geese. When they were roasted and on the table, my brother and I cried and our neighbours had to eat the birds.
ReplyDeleteAs for Sunset: Does the cat look hungry or is she waiting in line to be hugged?
Petra
Once again you've inspired us to expand our repertoire. Turks to come in the spring.
ReplyDelete