Something that always struck me as odd was the fact that the cows at The Ranch, with whom I spent a lot of time, always had a distinct air of caution and fear. They were my friends and clearly trusted me, but I always noticed their lack of trust toward—and fear of—the adults on The Ranch. When I communed with them, I always felt an impending sense of doom. It was almost as if they were awaiting some horrible fate, every day wondering if this would be the day their peaceful life would end—the day it would all change.
At the time, it struck me as odd. They were living on this beautiful ranch and grazing on the natural grasses of the land, surrounded by thousands of acres of wilderness, taken care of by these wonderful people known as Grandmother and Grandaddy, and protected by a saintly border collie named Duffy. It was an unusually large ranch, and an incredibly magical place; these were unusually lucky cows. They had it so good, and as far as I could tell, this was where they would remain for the rest of their lives. Yet, every day they lived with a feeling of despair and hopelessness. I felt it in their presence, and it made absolutely no sense to me. I felt sad for them, and I did my best to reassure and comfort them.
I was so confused at their seemingly inappropriate demeanor, given their lot in life, that I spent long hours just trying to understand. I tried to ask them what was wrong—
why
did they feel this way, when they had such a wonderful life. I got the sense that they knew something I didn’t, something so terrible that they didn’t even want to think about it—yet they couldn’t get it out of their minds. Something in such stark contrast to their current idyllic lifestyle that it was unimaginable. And every day for them began with the thought,
Is this the day? Please don’t let this be the day.
The day for what?
I wondered to myself.
Why are they so afraid? What do they dread?
That answer came the day I found out that some of my friends had been sent off to the slaughterhouse. Well, that was the
first
part of the answer, anyway. I didn’t get the full answer until years later, when I learned what a slaughterhouse was really like. When I learned of the poking, prodding, crowding, pain, and deprivation of their long, terrifying journey to that ultimate fate. When I learned of the assembly line of horrors (or rather,
disassembly
line) that awaited them, assuming they survived the torturous journey.
I felt horrible when I realized that my friends had been sent there. That I hadn’t done something to help them. My realization that “meat” was actually the flesh of my friends was a turning point in my life. That was the understanding that led me to become a vegetarian. To take “Thou shalt not kill” quite literally.
I find it interesting that the terms “free-range” or “organic” or “grass-fed” are terms often used to assure us that “no, there was no suffering involved in the production of
this
product.” If only that were true. Not only do these terms conjure up images that are often quite different than the reality behind the scenes, but ironically, it was the fate of animals who actually
did
live the epitome of a free-range, organic, grass-fed lifestyle that originally led me to give up meat. I learned from the animals themselves that no amount of grass or land could take away their fear and doom and dread of the undignified death that awaited them at the end of the line.
The time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as now they look upon the murder of men.
—L
EONARDO DA
V
INCI
I
THINK WE ALL HAVE CERTAIN KEY MOMENTS
in our lives that we see as pivotal. For me, one such moment took place when I was in college and went fishing with my boyfriend at that time. I had previously joined him on several afternoon trips to a nearby creek where he enjoyed catching crayfish (basically, miniature lobsters), which he intended to cook for dinner. He collected them in a bucket of water, and I quietly helped them back to safety whenever he had his back turned. (He thought they kept escaping on their own; little did he know, I was their guilty accomplice.)
Having had little success at crayfish hunting, he had now purchased his first fishing pole and decided to become a “real” fisherman. I had no intention of actually
joining
him in his new hobby; I merely went along for the peaceful scenery and the relaxing ride in a rowboat. It seemed like a nice way to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon. However, all illusions of tranquility quickly vanished for me when I found myself face-to-face with the struggling, terrified victim of my boyfriend’s new source of “relaxation,” who was dangling from his fishing hook.
As I looked into the fish’s eyes, I
literally felt
the terror—and understood the excruciating pain—that this helpless creature was now enduring, having been violently pulled out of his world and into the foreign, suffocating world of what must have appeared to him as monsters or aliens who had no mercy. It was one of those moments when my direct connection with an animal was undeniable … and completely overwhelming. The fish was asking me—
begging
me—for help.
I began to cry and scream to my boyfriend to
please
let the poor creature go. For the first time, I really understood how
unnecessary
such suffering was. My boyfriend wasn’t
intentionally
abusing an animal, of course; he was simply unable to
hear
that animal’s cries. But I heard them loud and clear, and I’ve never forgotten them. After much struggling, the fish’s life reached a tragic end, and I understood—for the first time, perhaps—the meaning of the phrase, “Ignorance is bliss.”
Up until that point, it hadn’t fully registered what an incredible amount of suffering takes place to land
any
animal on our dinner plates—not only a cow or a chicken or a lamb—but also a fish. It was then that it first fully hit me that
all
animals are sentient beings worthy of our compassion; and when we choose to eat them, a tremendous amount of suffering takes place, whether we are the ones who do the killing or not.
Our human-crafted devices of killing—whether they be hooks or nets or slaughterhouse production lines—are so outside of the laws of nature, so outside of the laws of compassion, that if a
human
were to be subjected to any one of them, the perpetrator would undoubtedly receive maximum punishment.
To a man whose mind is free there is something even more intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the sufferings of man.
For with the latter it is at least admitted that suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a criminal. But thousands of animals are uselessly butchered every day without a shadow of remorse.
If any man were to refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous.
And that is the unpardonable.
—R
OMAIN
R
OLLAND
(1866–1944)
A
NOTHER SUCH PIVOTAL MOMENT
in my life took place when I received some literature in the mail from the organization People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. It was then that I first learned of the
tremendous
amount of unimaginable animal suffering that goes on in our world, often behind closed doors and with our unwitting approval … and usually with our own dollars.
I could hardly believe it and wanted to
do
something about it, so I sent for additional educational materials right away. I’ll never forget the day they arrived. I sat and read every word of every page they sent. I learned of the horrors of factory farming and animal testing; of fur farms and leather production; of animals of all types used for food, clothing, and more. I learned of chickens and pigs being literally boiled alive in “scalding tanks”; of animals having their throats slit and their limbs cut off while fully conscious. I learned of such “routine” practices as “debeaking” and castration—and countless other unthinkable acts—all done without anesthesia. I learned of the tremendous suffering that countless animals endure at the hands of humanity twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week—due to a dangerous combination of greed, arrogance, and ignorance.
If people knew what was really going on,
I thought to myself,
they’d revolt
.
When I finished reading, I was angry and upset—not at the organization that had sent the information (I admired and appreciated what they were doing on behalf of animals)—but at humanity, for allowing such things to happen and then labeling those who attempted to
do
something about it as “radicals” trying to mess up the status quo. I didn’t blame the messenger, but it occurred to me that, for some reason in our world, we often
do
get angry at the messenger rather than the message. It was then that I first began to realize that,
sometimes
, that which is deemed good and decent in our world can be,
behind the scenes
, anything but; and those who work to change things for the better are often ostracized, punished, or vilified. It seems that this is the way it has been throughout human history.
That night, I quietly wept as I deeply empathized with all of the helpless animals who were suffering unnecessarily at the hands of human beings, for the sake of products we don’t even need and would be better off without. It was then that it occurred to me that the only reason more people weren’t concerned was because they didn’t know they had anything to be concerned
about
. I vowed that I would henceforth refrain from contributing to such senseless suffering, and that I would do everything in my power to make things right in my lifetime. And I felt in my heart that most people—if they only knew the
truth
—would undoubtedly do the same.
Cowardice asks the question—is it safe?
Expediency asks the question—is it politic?
Vanity asks the question—is it popular?
But conscience asks the question—is it right?
And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular; but one must take it because it is right.
—T
HE
R
EVEREND
D
R
. M
ARTIN
L
UTHER
K
ING
, J
R
.
I began to think about humanity and our bloody history here on Earth. I began to wonder if perhaps we were missing the lesson, over and over, and were repeatedly being given the opportunity to do things differently … to expand our minds and our hearts to love unconditionally. The many colors and creeds within our own species have given us abundant opportunities to expand our circle of love and compassion, and it seems that we have failed at almost every turn. Here on classroom Earth, history tends to repeat itself
until we get the lesson
.
The animal kingdom provides us perhaps an even bigger opportunity to get the lesson, for the animals we oppress don’t have the means—or the voice—to fight back. So, this time it’s entirely up to
us
to speak up for
them
.
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade-unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade-unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me
.
—R
EVEREND
M
ARTIN
N
IEMOLLER
I’
VE ALWAYS BEEN
a relatively low-key person, not wanting to offend others and constantly concerned about what people think of me, often biting my tongue instead of speaking up for fear of creating conflict or controversy. However, the one area in which I’ve always spoken up is the issue of injustice—whether it be social injustice or environmental injustice or interspecies injustice. As a child, I often spoke up for other children who were teased, and in so doing, I myself became the target of much abuse. Even so, I always felt in my heart that I had done the right thing and would do it again if need be.
The issue of unnecessary suffering of my fellow beings, whether they be humans
or
other animals, is simply more important than what people think of me. Any offense that anyone might take in my voicing these issues is
nothing
compared to the offenses that will continue to be committed against the innocent if we
don’t
voice these issues. To me, the oppression of others is so blatantly wrong and, unfortunately, so often overlooked or misunderstood in our world, that I simply cannot remain silent. I’ve seen too much, and in knowing what I do, I feel I simply
must
give voice to these issues.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
—T
HE
R
EVEREND
D
R
. M
ARTIN
L
UTHER
K
ING
, J
R
.
Early on, I naively thought that
everyone
would be supportive of my decision to stop eating animals, but over time I’ve come to realize that such is not always the case. Some people actually become defensive upon hearing that I don’t eat meat, and I do understand that defensiveness can be a very normal reaction to that which is different or unfamiliar. I’ve been exposed to information and life experiences that have inspired me to take this step, yet there was a time when I, too, ate meat, and I certainly don’t hold judgment over those who do. Nevertheless, there are those who seem to take my dietary choice as some sort of personal attack and grounds for an argument, though I go out of my way to never position it as such. For me, it is a choice of compassion, not of confrontation. So, rather than argue, my personal philosophy is to lead by example and education.
*
I find that one of the many excellent resources for this is “Veganism in a Nutshell” by Bruce Friedrich, available on audio tape, CD, and online at
www.GoVeg.com
. (Bruce is a wonderful example of compassion for
all
beings. He spent many years working in a shelter for homeless families and the largest soup kitchen in Washington, D.C.) He does a wonderful job of fielding many of the questions that come up surrounding this dietary choice, including the ever popular, “But you eat plants! Don’t plants feel pain?” In his words: