if I had to kill pigs, cows and chickens to eat them, I'm not sure I could do it
I spent about eight years as a young boy, on a little farm my stepdad bought/built. (It was just land with a house when we moved in.) We had everything from chickens, turkeys, cows, horses, hogs, even a couple of peacocks because my mom liked them. Massive garden where we raised ALL of our fruits and vegetables. And I mean ALL.
First bunch of chickens were baby chicks we bought from another farmer in the area and we raised them. Of course myself and my siblings being quite young regarded them as pets, and even named them all. The daily chores of feeding, watering, gathering eggs, fell to us kids as did much of the maintenance-type work the place required.
My days went like this: Up at 4am and quickly out to do the chores no matter the weather - feed and water the livestock. Feed and water all poultry and gather eggs. Slop the hogs. Make sure any weather-related problems were mitigated. Make sure there's salt blocks for the cows and give the horses their ration of oats and make sure they have hay. And so on. Takes at least an hour.
Then there was breakfast, then a quick bath, get dressed, and walk two miles to school. Again, no matter the weather.
After school it was chores. Homework was pretty much forbidden in our household so we had to adapt - doing the assigned homework in class, during lunch, at homeroom or study hall, and etc. Don't bring any of that shit home, ever. We don't have time for it. We have a garden to tend, crops in the field and animals to take care of. Sheds and pole barns to build, well water system to take care of, and so on.
Anyhow, after a couple of years our chickens were grown and one stunning Friday I come home from school to find all kinds of crap set up in the feedyard that's never been there before. Big fire with a kettle over it, making water really hot. A playground slide set up as a slightly inclined table, water hose rigged to flow this hot water down it. At the higher end of it, a tree stump positioned just so, with a couple of big nails sticking out of the top of it. A big bucket existed at the end of the slide, out of the way of the water flow though. Above all of this was thick baling wire forming sort of a "track" to each of what looked like, workstations.
I quickly found out this was a makeshift slaughter line, for the chickens. Their heads get chopped off on the stump, the nails were there to go on either side of their necks as a restraint. The slide was to catch the blood as they slowly rode the wire towards the next station, one of their feet attached by a wire rig for the purpose. Next station was the kettle, where they were dunked for about 30 seconds then they went to another stainless steel table for plucking. Each of we kids had a station. My terrible assignment was catching the chickens one by one and bringing them to my stepdad, who was doing the head chopping. Catching them was easy, again baling wire was used, fashioned with a long hook on the end for catching a leg then dragging them in and picking them up. Catching them wasn't my problem,
seeing them was, through the tears.
We systematically slaughtered them all. 27 chickens went into the freezer that evening. Nobody had bothered to prepare us for this, nobody had told us this was coming. It just happened. And we had to suck it up.
Dinnertime in later weeks and months was a somber occasion for we kids, wondering what chicken we were now consuming. Is this "ro-Ho?" Is this "Chickie?" We would ask. Literally, asking the names of the chickens. It was a rude awakening. We kill animals, we raise them for the very purpose of killing them, for consumption.
It hardens you, it takes you out of touch completely with the preciousness of life. Soon you're shooting sparrows with a pellet gun for your barn cats to get and eat. Soon you're going on the hunting trips, trying to shoot various animals for sport and consumption. You're taught that it's what animals are for, to supply us with food. "Hell, it's in the bible" they would explain. They would teach you that it's not okay to kill them just for the sport of it, just to waste. And other such rules of honor.
When we got the next batch of baby chicks the following late winter, we didn't name any of them. Didn't dare form any attachment to them. They're food. They're meat.
Much later on though as a young adult I made the choice not only to never kill an animal, but also to never hurt them in any way. Oh, I still fish but they all go back in the water. To me fishing is much more sporting for the animal, he has a much more level playing field than if he's on the wrong end of a rifle or shotgun. I have lots of friends who are still avid hunters, who also pass this down to their kids. It's none of my business and I don't look down on the practice at all. If we didn't eat animals, man never would have flourished on this planet.
I never know for sure how much in all of this is rationalization and how much is fact and necessary. We're meat eaters though - if you go totally vegan you'll be a sick puppy. We need protein, period. Some people make that choice, going plant-based only and get their protein from plants only. That's their business and I don't look down on the practice. To each his own. I still eat meat.
Anyhow... I have other animal stories I might share someday. Like the night we had to kill a big pack of wild dogs who had raided our pens and killed most of our poultry. (They didn't eat anything, it was just blood lust.) The stepdad hung the carcasses up and baited the sumbitches back the following night, all of us from under vehicles strategically positioned blew them away not unlike what was done to Bonnie and Clyde. There's much more to that story but you kind of get the idea.
/too much info.