I come from a family of farmers and hunters.
I remember the first time I realized that we actually ate the animals I had made friends with. I cried.
Then my dad told me this story.
He sat me on his knee on the porch in tha back of the house. He pointed to the chicken coop and the barn and the pen where the hunting dogs were.
He said: “Listen.”
I listened and there was the normal sounds one would hear in that type of setting.
I looked at him trying to understand.
He said: “All the animals are content. None of them are moaning or
in pain or suffering in any way. For generations, our family makes sure that all the animals are well fed. We make sure they are healthy and when we do take their lives, you have to understand that we do it quickly and make sure they don’t suffer.”
He than said: “Be proud of our ways. I could never eat meat that comes from supermarkets. The animals are treated horribly once they leave the farm and go to the slaughter house. My animals will never suffer such fate. You might be too young to understand this, but when we eat our meat, I know what went into them and I have no worries in feeding you what I have grown. It’s all part of the cycle of life. It’s nature.”
I felt so soothed. My dad then told me that it would be better for me to be friends with the hunting dogs, the horses and the barn cats. From that day on, he did not want me to name the other animals. It was a way to detach myself.
Anyway, if I had to kill my own meat, I would probably fish a lot more.
I can catch, skin and prepare fish for meals.
I would have no issues raising and preparing chickens for meals. I’d have to learn on how to prep them before cooking though.