This afternoon Steph and I headed out to the farm to help her Dad with weighing some sheep before sending them off for processing. The task itself is pretty simple – lead the lambs into a cage which sits on a scale, weigh them, then hold them still while someone paints their weight on them.
Being a city boy, this interested me. Not just because it’s something I need to know for when we take over the farm but also I wanted to know what goes through one’s mind when picking out which lamb is allowed to live and which ends up on someone’s plate.
After all, you’ve risen in the early hours of winter mornings to make sure they survive birth and protected them against wolves and dogs. Now it’s time to send them off to the slaughter? Assuming money is not an issue (in our case, it is not), how does one make that decision?
After two head butts to the groin and four attempts to take me out at the knee, I no longer wonder.