I’m here with two friends who once (or twice) a year fill their freezers with antelope and warthog. They are not trophy hunters and no antelope horns adorn their walls. They are nose-to-tail eaters who will also cure skins for the floor and use the intestines for sausage casings.
The killing of animals for meat is an emotive issue. Most of us shop at Supermarkets and buy neat bright read packs of meat produced in industrial quantities presented on polystyrene trays, sealed with cling wrap. The more discerning, such as myself, may care about the origins of any animal products they consume.
I want to know that the chickens that laid the eggs I scramble for breakfast have lived a life that is as happy as possible on a low density farm where they can peck and scratch away in the dust. I want to know that the pigs, sheep or cows that I eat have spent their lives happy on pasture rather than densely packed into a feedlot.
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