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.
