So learning how to put up preserves was one farm goal. Another: learning to process animals. For food.
I love eating meat, but I’ve always had this little feeling that I shouldn’t be eating something I wouldn’t be able to kill. And so some friends brought over their tenderly raised rabbits and muscovy ducks, and I learned how to do some gory things that no one likes to think about when tucking into their plates of protein. Or ever, really. But it happens all the same (and in most cases it happens in far more horrific and filthy ways than the means we employed), and I’m glad I did it.
Surprisingly I did not feel as sad for the loss of life as I felt extremely extremely grossed out by the smell of boiling feathers and the sight of five bunny heads. The bunny livers, however, were sublime.
