Pork = Pig

I received a relatively normal text message today. My boyfriend was at a friend's house cooking dinner with his family. They were making pork for dinner.

Normally, I would have brushed this off and thought nothing of it. I've always tried to respect people's views on food and I don't want to shove anything down anyone's throat. But I've been interning at Farm Sanctuary for a week so far, and every day on my walk to the office I'm greeted by grazing animals on rolling hills. I hear roosters crowing in the morning and geese honking at dusk. I've affectionately rubbed a cow's forehead and my face has been nuzzled by a baby goat. I've been curiously investigated by sheep and generally ignored by prim chickens.

And I've rubbed a pig's belly. Pigs like to roll over on their side, like dogs, indicating that they demand a belly rub. In doing so, their mouths seem to curve up into a smile. They are in bliss. Pigs are also extremely social. The pig barn here is unofficially sectioned off by pig posse. When they sleep, they're always touching - either face to face or spooning. During the winter they sleep in a line to stay warm. Pigs can pick up tricks faster than dogs and rank #4 in animal intelligence. Also, pigs can run a 7 minute mile, which is way faster than anything I could attempt.

Interestingly, pigs need sunscreen just like we do. Pigs are bred to have lighter than normal skin in order to produce desirable meat - pork. Without sunscreen or a proper mud bath, they burn easily. They need us, but we don't need them.

For the past few days I keep thinking about the difference between a grilled chicken salad and Dino, my favorite one-winged chicken. Or a big juicy burger and Lawrence, the sweetest little cow I met on Sunday. How does a peaceful, loving creature end up as a meal? 

Would you be able to cut up your dog or cat and feel okay about it? Would this seem immoral and wrong? Would it tear you up to kill your best furry friend, maybe fry or grille him, throw on some seasoning, and call him dinner?

It's hard to explain exactly what I'm feeling about all this. I think it's something like reverence with a bit of shock. To imagine these creatures I'm starting to know, each with a name, as a commodity like an apple or rice. And how we've altered the names of the animals so that we cover up what we're truly eating. Beef is cow, no matter what sort of fancy name you call it - steak, sirloin, veal, t-bone, hamburger. Bacon and pork are pig. Poultry is bird - chicken, goose, duck, pheasant, turkey. Venison is deer. Foie grois is liver. Pâté is pureed seasoned meat. And more exotically, cervelle de veau, is calf brain.

So before you chow down on your next meal, think about what exactly you're eating. The animal, the being, the personality. Call it what you want, but you're eating something that was once alive. It had thoughts and emotions. Would you be willing to kill a pig yourself, butcher it, and serve it? Consider that before you sit down for a hearty meal of pork.