I respect your decision to not eat meat. In America, that's a conscious choice that takes some courage, as I'm sure people give you a hard time about it sometimes. In too much of the world, folks eat anything that's moving slower than they are. Americans have *no idea* how fortunate they are to have the choice of what to eat, unless they've travelled or worked in the 3rd world.
The part I left out of my whole narrative is that I refuse to work killing our steers. I did it once, when the SO was out of town and a guy was getting married. He was Russian. He prayed, shot the animal, prayed, bled the animal, I swung the steer onto clean grass with the front end loader and left. Came back an hour later, weighed the quarters of beef and took the money. I _hate_ the smell of blood and _hate_ to see my animals die. At least my Russian neighbors know that God is watching, so they treat the animals with respect and say the proper prayers as they go.
I'll help the cows be born, nurse them when they're sick, stay up all night in a blizzard tending them, feed them in blizzards or bitter cold, track them through the woods when they decide to calve out where God lost her shoes, put up with raging hay fever while I'm putting up the hay it takes to feed them all winter, ride unbroke horses to drive them down to the grazing lease and back home again, chop holes in the creek ice all winter so they have water, fix *miles* of fence to keep them out of mischief, but I
*will not* be a party to killing them. I've been here nine years and still won't help butcher. I'll do every stinking, rotton, unthankful job there is on this ranch, but I will not kill the steers. (But I'll kill one who's dying.)That said, I have to kill my old saddle horse pretty soon, as she's crippled with navicular syndrome (her front feet are shot and it's painful). It's time. I can do that. I'll be doing Red a kindness to kill her. I shot my 14 y/o dog last summer. It was time. She was suffering. I see no reason to pay someone to do that for me. It doesn't make it any easier.
I grew up in San Francisco, where water comes out of the faucet and meat comes in little packages from Safeway. I'm not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
I'm just grateful to have landed with people who do this stuff right.
Jan