Took some time off from Hospital, which started at the beginning of this week. Several things needing done here on The Ranch, and also an art show to finish prepping. First priorities though include those things on The Ranch.
As of today, two buck goats and one boar hog are gone to the butcher. We start the process here ourselves, rather than trying to load livestock into a trailer and haul them off. I'd say it is because we raised 'em so it's our responsibility (and it is, all the way across the board). I'd say it is because I am the spendthrift offspring of unmarried parents (and in one sense, I am, even though my parents, actually, were married). In the end, it still comes down to the same thing.
Time to stop storing meat on the hoof, and put it in the freezer.
Some time back, one of the people I worked with at Hospital kept giving me a hard time about this. Finally I asked them were they vegetarian. No, not vegetarian. Since the hard time involved the hogs, I asked then did they just not eat pork. No, really enjoyed bacon and sausage and ham and things.
So. Just a hard time about me doing the killing, then.
Thus I wrote a poem. Well, a filksong as well, because it may be sung to the tune of The Yellow Rose of Texas. And I waited for a bit, for just the right occurrence, which involved a particular surgeon and a particular procedure because this person I worked with then, well that was the stretch of time I did a lot of cardiac surgery. And I wanted the one surgeon to be there because he grew up in Texas, and he's bought our pork. And I wanted the procedure to be a heart transplant, because most of those wait until the wee hours of the night.
And when all the circumstances came together, at 03:00-ish, I nailed co-worker. Surgeon greatly enjoyed the sung version.
I've a ranch called Kumas Playpen southwest of Hoggetowne Creek,
And of its fine fair bounty is what I now shall speak.
There are cows, and goats, and horses, and the chickens are quite big,
But it seems that what we're known for, is mighty tasty pig.
There's a little pig at Playpen that I am going to eat.
Nobody else can cook him, except my darlin' sweet.
She'll roast him on a turnspit for a golden, crackly skin.
And when I've eaten piggie, I'm goin' to eat his kin.
They'll be the star attraction at a Big Ole Barbecue!
That's why they're on the Playpen. It ain't no pettin' zoo.
For chops and ham and sausage, and let's not forget ribs.
But if you just don't eat piggie, well then, we shall roast some kids.
For now, the killing is over. Freezer space will be filled at least partially, and space that's still open is waiting for beef. The Ranch called Kumas Playpen is small, and working, and not a petting zoo. We believe our livestock have rights: a safe environment, a healthy diet, no abuse which includes unnecessary medication of any sort. What they eat on the Ranch is definitely organic, and we pay attention to what we feed to stay away from additives we don't want. We aren't certified as organic growers; we do qualify. Because, without getting into another really bad joke I've spun on a friend, it remains a truth. Happy animals are tasty animals.
And now, with that work done there awaits the finishing up of artwork for the Necronomicon Art Show (link opens in another tab/window). No rest for the weary.
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