(no subject)
When the suggestion was made that I visit a slaughterhouse to observe
first-hand blatant infractions upon the rights of animals, I was very
skeptical. The reason for my skepticism was that I felt a
slaughterhouse did not present an example of cruelty far enough
removed from everyday life to be poignant or relevant in a discussion
of animal rights. I felt that I should be writing on something a
little more esoteric or something considered cruel or immoral, such
as the clubbing to death of baby seals. I was gravely mistaken. And
the fact that what goes on inside a slaughterhouse is done because of
the demand the vast majority of the American public has for the flesh
of other living beings makes it all the more poignant and relevant.
There is no convenient escape from guilt by association for what goes
on inside a slaughterhouse as there is from the case of the baby
seals in the Arctic. While it is easy for most of us to refrain from
purchasing the goods for which seals were slain -- thus incurring no
guilt for their deaths -- most people willingly (and thoughtlessly)
eat the flesh of one type of animal or another whose life has been
terminated within the walls of a slaughterhouse.
As I stepped from my car in the parking lot of the packing plant, the
combination of sounds and smells emanating from the corrugated metal
structure made me question whether or not this was something I really
wanted to go through with. The first thing to hit my senses was the
sound of cattle -- not the pleas- ant bucolic mooing one might hear
on a stroll down a country lane next to a small farm, but a rapid,
frantic mooing. It was the kind of mooing I heard during a weekend
stay at my uncle's dairy farm when one of the cows was attacked by
stray dogs. Aside from the noise, the release of adrenaline in her
body made the cow drool, and caused her nose to run so profusely that
she briefly had difficulty breathing. At that moment in the parking
lot, I could only sense discomfort in the sound of the cows, but
later I discovered that each one awaiting slaughter in the chute
leading to the "killing stall" was suffering the same symptoms of
terror I witnessed at my uncle's farm
The second thing I noticed was also a sound. As I walked toward the
building, I heard the strange muffled whine that can only come from a
saw cutting bone still encased in flesh. At this point I realized
that I was not prepared for what I was about to experience. That
feeling was intensified to the point of nausea when, as I walked
closer, I caught my first whiff of the combination of smells that I
would have to endure for the next few hours: the oddly sickening odor
of newly slaughtered flesh still so warm from the life so recently
removed that steam rises from it; the not so oddly nauseating stench
of the sausage and hot dog meat boilers; and the quiet, cold reeking
of flesh hanging, carcass af- ter carcass, row upon row, in the
freezer storage area. My imagination had prepared me a little bit for
the visual experience, but I was entirely unprepared for the almost
unbearable smell that permeated the entire plant.
After brief "pleasantries" with Jerry, the production manager of the
plant, I was allowed to procede through the building unguided and at
my own pace. I began the tour "where it all starts", as Jerry put it,
in the "kill shed".
I entered the kill shed through a short, tunnel-like hall through
which I could see what I soon learned was the third butchering
station. The kill shed consisted of one room in which a number of
operations are performed by one or two of six butchers at four
stations along the length of the room. In the kill shed there is also
a United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) inspector who
examines parts of every animal who goes through the kill shed.
The first station is the killing station. It is worked by one man
whose job is to herd the animal into the killing stall, slaughter him
or her, and begin the butchering process. This stage of the process
takes about ten minutes for each animal, and begins with the opening
of a heavy steel door that separates the killing stall from the
waiting chute. The man working this station must then go into a
corridor adjacent to the waiting chute, and prod his next victim into
the killing stall with a high-voltage electric cattle prod. This is
the most time-consuming part of the operation because the cattle are
fully aware of what lies ahead, and are determined not to enter the
killing stall. The physical symptoms of terror were painfully evident
on the faces of each and every animal I saw either in the actual
killing stall or in the waiting chute. During the 40 seconds to a
minute that each animal had to wait in the killing stall before
losing consciousness, the terror became visibly more intense. The
animal could smell the blood, and see his or her former companions in
various stages of dismemberment. During the last few seconds of life,
the animal thrashes about the stall as much as its confines allow.
All four of the cows whose deaths I witnessed strained frantically,
futilely, and pathetically towards the ceiling -- the only direction
that was not blocked by a steel door. Death came in the form of a
pneumatic nail gun that was placed against their heads and fired.
The gun is designed so that the nail never completely leaves the gun,
but simply is blown into the animal's head and then pulled out by the
butcher as the animal collapses. Three of the four times I saw it
used, it did the job on the first try, but one cow struggled a good
deal after collapsing. After the animal has collapsed, the side of
the killing stall is raised, and a chain is secured to the right hind
leg. The cow is then hoisted by that one leg to a hanging position.
At this point, the butcher drains the body of blood by slitting the
cow's throat. When the blood vessels are severed, there is an amazing
torrent of blood so profuse that the butcher is unable to step aside
fast enough to avoid being covered with it. This steaming torrent of
blood lasts only about 15 seconds, after which the only task left to
the man at the first station is to skin and remove the animal's head.
At the second station in the kill shed, the headless animal is
dropped to the floor. The body is propped up on the back and relieved
of hooves and, if female, milk sack and udders. At this time, any
urine and feces that didn't drain from the body during the first few
seconds of death now pour freely onto the floor. The body is then
slit down the middle, and the hide is peeled partially away. A yoke
is then hooked to the stumps of the hind legs, the body is lifted
upwards, and the rest of the hide is pulled past a roller secured to
the floor and peeled off. The animal's body is now at the third
station of the kill shed where it is gutted and then sawed in half --
becoming two "sides of beef".
The sides of beef are sprayed down and weighed at the fourth and
final station of the kill station. They are then placed in the
cooling locker where the residual warmth of life steams away slowly
in preparation for the deep-freeze storage locker. From the cooling
locker, the meat goes into a main storage area where it is kept for
as long as a week. This locker exits to a butchering area where the
sides of beef are reduced to parts for the supermarket which end up
on dining room tables.
The final stop on my tour was the sausage and hot dog production
facilities. It is often said that if you could see what goes into a
hot dog, you'd never eat one eat one again. Well that adage applies
tenfold to the production of sausage. The most violently nauseating
smell that I have ever experienced was the odor wafting up from the
sausage meat boiling vats.
As I left the complex, I was embarrassed about my previous
skepticism, and I encourage anyone who has any of the doubts that I
once possessed to make a visit to a slaughterhouse or spend a day at
a factory farm. I think it would become clear that there has to be
better way to feed ourselves, and that it is our duty as moral beings
to pursue the alternatives.
first-hand blatant infractions upon the rights of animals, I was very
skeptical. The reason for my skepticism was that I felt a
slaughterhouse did not present an example of cruelty far enough
removed from everyday life to be poignant or relevant in a discussion
of animal rights. I felt that I should be writing on something a
little more esoteric or something considered cruel or immoral, such
as the clubbing to death of baby seals. I was gravely mistaken. And
the fact that what goes on inside a slaughterhouse is done because of
the demand the vast majority of the American public has for the flesh
of other living beings makes it all the more poignant and relevant.
There is no convenient escape from guilt by association for what goes
on inside a slaughterhouse as there is from the case of the baby
seals in the Arctic. While it is easy for most of us to refrain from
purchasing the goods for which seals were slain -- thus incurring no
guilt for their deaths -- most people willingly (and thoughtlessly)
eat the flesh of one type of animal or another whose life has been
terminated within the walls of a slaughterhouse.
As I stepped from my car in the parking lot of the packing plant, the
combination of sounds and smells emanating from the corrugated metal
structure made me question whether or not this was something I really
wanted to go through with. The first thing to hit my senses was the
sound of cattle -- not the pleas- ant bucolic mooing one might hear
on a stroll down a country lane next to a small farm, but a rapid,
frantic mooing. It was the kind of mooing I heard during a weekend
stay at my uncle's dairy farm when one of the cows was attacked by
stray dogs. Aside from the noise, the release of adrenaline in her
body made the cow drool, and caused her nose to run so profusely that
she briefly had difficulty breathing. At that moment in the parking
lot, I could only sense discomfort in the sound of the cows, but
later I discovered that each one awaiting slaughter in the chute
leading to the "killing stall" was suffering the same symptoms of
terror I witnessed at my uncle's farm
The second thing I noticed was also a sound. As I walked toward the
building, I heard the strange muffled whine that can only come from a
saw cutting bone still encased in flesh. At this point I realized
that I was not prepared for what I was about to experience. That
feeling was intensified to the point of nausea when, as I walked
closer, I caught my first whiff of the combination of smells that I
would have to endure for the next few hours: the oddly sickening odor
of newly slaughtered flesh still so warm from the life so recently
removed that steam rises from it; the not so oddly nauseating stench
of the sausage and hot dog meat boilers; and the quiet, cold reeking
of flesh hanging, carcass af- ter carcass, row upon row, in the
freezer storage area. My imagination had prepared me a little bit for
the visual experience, but I was entirely unprepared for the almost
unbearable smell that permeated the entire plant.
After brief "pleasantries" with Jerry, the production manager of the
plant, I was allowed to procede through the building unguided and at
my own pace. I began the tour "where it all starts", as Jerry put it,
in the "kill shed".
I entered the kill shed through a short, tunnel-like hall through
which I could see what I soon learned was the third butchering
station. The kill shed consisted of one room in which a number of
operations are performed by one or two of six butchers at four
stations along the length of the room. In the kill shed there is also
a United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) inspector who
examines parts of every animal who goes through the kill shed.
The first station is the killing station. It is worked by one man
whose job is to herd the animal into the killing stall, slaughter him
or her, and begin the butchering process. This stage of the process
takes about ten minutes for each animal, and begins with the opening
of a heavy steel door that separates the killing stall from the
waiting chute. The man working this station must then go into a
corridor adjacent to the waiting chute, and prod his next victim into
the killing stall with a high-voltage electric cattle prod. This is
the most time-consuming part of the operation because the cattle are
fully aware of what lies ahead, and are determined not to enter the
killing stall. The physical symptoms of terror were painfully evident
on the faces of each and every animal I saw either in the actual
killing stall or in the waiting chute. During the 40 seconds to a
minute that each animal had to wait in the killing stall before
losing consciousness, the terror became visibly more intense. The
animal could smell the blood, and see his or her former companions in
various stages of dismemberment. During the last few seconds of life,
the animal thrashes about the stall as much as its confines allow.
All four of the cows whose deaths I witnessed strained frantically,
futilely, and pathetically towards the ceiling -- the only direction
that was not blocked by a steel door. Death came in the form of a
pneumatic nail gun that was placed against their heads and fired.
The gun is designed so that the nail never completely leaves the gun,
but simply is blown into the animal's head and then pulled out by the
butcher as the animal collapses. Three of the four times I saw it
used, it did the job on the first try, but one cow struggled a good
deal after collapsing. After the animal has collapsed, the side of
the killing stall is raised, and a chain is secured to the right hind
leg. The cow is then hoisted by that one leg to a hanging position.
At this point, the butcher drains the body of blood by slitting the
cow's throat. When the blood vessels are severed, there is an amazing
torrent of blood so profuse that the butcher is unable to step aside
fast enough to avoid being covered with it. This steaming torrent of
blood lasts only about 15 seconds, after which the only task left to
the man at the first station is to skin and remove the animal's head.
At the second station in the kill shed, the headless animal is
dropped to the floor. The body is propped up on the back and relieved
of hooves and, if female, milk sack and udders. At this time, any
urine and feces that didn't drain from the body during the first few
seconds of death now pour freely onto the floor. The body is then
slit down the middle, and the hide is peeled partially away. A yoke
is then hooked to the stumps of the hind legs, the body is lifted
upwards, and the rest of the hide is pulled past a roller secured to
the floor and peeled off. The animal's body is now at the third
station of the kill shed where it is gutted and then sawed in half --
becoming two "sides of beef".
The sides of beef are sprayed down and weighed at the fourth and
final station of the kill station. They are then placed in the
cooling locker where the residual warmth of life steams away slowly
in preparation for the deep-freeze storage locker. From the cooling
locker, the meat goes into a main storage area where it is kept for
as long as a week. This locker exits to a butchering area where the
sides of beef are reduced to parts for the supermarket which end up
on dining room tables.
The final stop on my tour was the sausage and hot dog production
facilities. It is often said that if you could see what goes into a
hot dog, you'd never eat one eat one again. Well that adage applies
tenfold to the production of sausage. The most violently nauseating
smell that I have ever experienced was the odor wafting up from the
sausage meat boiling vats.
As I left the complex, I was embarrassed about my previous
skepticism, and I encourage anyone who has any of the doubts that I
once possessed to make a visit to a slaughterhouse or spend a day at
a factory farm. I think it would become clear that there has to be
better way to feed ourselves, and that it is our duty as moral beings
to pursue the alternatives.