Last week our friend who does hooves and ultra-sounds came to trim hooves again. We all went to the back pen, where we have a second milking stand in a small pen inside the goat shelter. I learned how to hold the goats’ legs, with my thumb on that tendon on the back of their ankles, so that our friend could trim and not get kicked.
We did a second ultra-sound on Molly. We really wanted her to be pregnant. When we initially did her ultrasound and sent in her blood test, she would have been only 28 days pregnant. The ultrasound isn’t supposed to be able to see anything until 30 days. The blood test should probably have been accurate, but we really wanted Molly to be pregnant. So, we double-checked. But, she isn’t.
Jan and our friend decided that they’re going to eat Molly.
Their conversation was really interesting. They wanted to eat somebody. They began discussing the options of who would be the best to eat. There were a lot of considerations. It costs $100 to have the butcher kill and dress the goat. So, they wanted to eat someone large. But, that didn’t seem to be their biggest consideration. They really wanted to eat someone who sort of wanted to be eaten.
It made me think of stories I’d read about packs of wolves waiting for a herd of deer to signal them which of the deer would offer itself to be their prey.
They discussed eating Button, but Button is Madam’s daughter. They’re both in the back pen, and Madam loves being with Button, so, even though Button is mean to some of the younger goats, Jan didn’t want to eat Button, because whatever makes Madam happy is something Jan wants.
Molly, on the other hand, has never been a happy goat. The other goats don’t like her, she’s never made any friends, and she just never seems as if she's enjoying life. She’s scared of people, she’s scared of goats. And she’s big. And, although it’s possible for goats to have their first kids at four years old, (which is how old Molly would be next time she could be bred) it’s not ideal.
So, they made a plan to eat Molly. I thought, well, maybe they’ll butcher her while I’m in Chicago and I can pretend the entire thing isn’t happening. But, no, Jan said to schedule her slaughter for a time when I’m here, because they’ll need my help getting Molly into the truck. So, I’m going to have to look Molly in the eye, and help put her on the MURDER WAGON! OMIGOD!
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. Basically, they’re going to eat her whether I like it or not. And, the more help they have loading her up, the less traumatized Molly will be. So, I should help, right? That would be merciful. OR, is that what the Nazi guards at Auschwitz said? They’re going to gas these people, anyway, so I may as well help? Aargh!
When I was in Chicago, I talked about it with some Buddhist friends. Even though one of the Five Precepts of Buddhism is “No Harming of Sentient Beings” many Buddhists eat meat. I don’t know how you eat meat and think you’re not harming a sentient being. But, that’s me. My personal belief is that everyone has a slightly different path. Stuff that isn’t OK for some people might be OK for others. For instance, if you’re an alcoholic, it’s life-threatening for you to take a drink. Not for a normy. For them, a glass of wine is perfectly fine. Or, like a baby pooping in the bathtub. That’s OK for a baby. Not so much for a ten-year-old.
So, this week I’ve been digging out some gates that will help the process of catching Molly on Saturday. Some gates that we’ll need to close so that she doesn’t end up running around and around an enormous pen until she’s terrified and exhausted. There’s some mercy there. I’m giving her extra peanuts, because that’s one of the few things that make her happy. I have talked with her about her life as a goat coming to an end, told her not to be frightened. I don’t think that means very much to her right now. Although, I do like how, when I talk to her about that, she puts her nose right up to my mouth and sniffs.
I got her full name and date of birth from my cousin. I’ll put a card on my shrine for her on Saturday, and I’ll say prayers for her for 49 days, and then I’ll donate money to the Lobster Release at Gampo Abbey in her honor. I just don’t know what else I can do.
This is not the kind of death that corporate farm animals receive. Of course, our goats don’t have the kind of life that corporate farm animals have, either. It’s possible that if all meat came from animals who were as cared for and respected as Molly, issues around eating animals would be very different.
I think I expected to feel worse. But, honestly, I can still look Molly in the eye. I’m not going to eat her myself. But, I don’t actually feel terrible about helping her move on to another incarnation. And, I don’t think it’s because I’m rationalizing. I think it’s because all of us: me, Jan, our friend who does hooves, and even the butcher, are really doing our best on her behalf. Maybe that’s all anyone can ever ask.
Travel well, Molly! Have a fortunate re-birth.
Narrow Gate Farm Molly
April 7, 2017 - February 1, 2020
