I’ve tried to explain what it is to kill an animal we care for
I am their peddler of wild apples, escort to new pastures, fluffer of hay, benevolent back scratcher, birth assistant, udder reliever, medicine woman, salty skinned human.
For this, they deem me worthy of their calm and trust. They depend on me, but I am not a part of them. I am not their master. They’re entrenched hierarchy has no place for a two legged.
But for beasts that care not for the superficial or allow themselves to be ruled by emotion, I consider their ease a reinforcement of the character I strive to develop in myself.
They know me. I’m familiar and I’m ok with them. What anyone else thinks about my relationship with my animals is irrelevant.
Someone sitting on their couch, insisting that what I do is antithetical to caring, is so lost in the dark woods, they sit and eat the breadcrumbs at their feet. Arguing their position rather than following the path ahead that just might broaden their understanding. Such a mundane, small way to approach life.
Learn and stretch if you want to, but don’t ask me to provide you with the proof of my position. I couldn’t give a shit to defend what doesn’t need to be defended.
I’m no authority and I’m no touchstone of absolutes. But Nature is. She’s who I answer to. She’s the governor of my world. No human. And definitely no human with a conditioned mind that delivers such juicy comforts that they dare not question their beliefs and the stories they’ve been told. Too uncomfortable. Yawn. “A peasant becomes fond of his pig and is glad to salt away it’s pork. What is significant, and so difficult for the urban stranger to understand, is that the two statements are connected by an and, and not by a but.” – John BergerCan’t say it any better, but I’ve tried to explain what it is to kill an animal we care for slowdownfarmsteadharvest