Most of these little pigs will become food for my family. I do not say that lightly. I no longer enjoy killing things. In fact, I dread it. But actual life requires actual death. In order to confront the reality of living, one must confront the reality of dying. Modern suburban living does not give kids the opportunity to have that confrontation. I am not aware of a single advantage that being raised in a neighborhood has over being raised beside the neighbor's woods.
The old time farming practices that existed around here when I was little were focused on the death of the livestock. But, before that animal died, it first had a life. Livestock raised in factory farms do not. The have an extend period of pre-death and then they are slaughtered.
Worst of all is the oft expressed reaction, "But they are too cute to kill!" Implicit in that statement is that the "cute" have a higher right to life than the ugly. No one is too cute to die and no one is too ugly to live. I always preferred the runt of the litter. The horse that is blind in one eye yet is an incredible trail animal impresses me much more than one with two good eyes who is equally well sutied for rough trails. A three legged hound that still runs deer earns my admiration, not my pity. A rough rider with about half of a functioning body impresses me more than Olympic riders.
No, I am not going to eat all of the little pigs. I am saving one, a little sow pig--all stubby, sawed off and ugly.
The best dog I ever hunted over was the runt...my first lab..all the other puppies fell over themselves to get to me and play, but Shadow came out of the box and her way to me. Later that day she made her first retrieve..age 47 days. That dog would hunt, and so will those little horses. -Lloyd
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