My husband Nik is a gentle soul, and possesses a deep love for all creatures great and small. He’ll agonize over a damaged bird, save an iguana from the jaws of our dogs and coax an injured cat back to health. Nik’s ability to quietly communicate with animals is something few are gifted with; his compassion and understanding are traits that make our house and farm peaceful havens for the creatures inhabiting them, and they respond to him accordingly.
With the onset of Covid-19 Nik decided we needed to be more self-sufficient, and bought a ram sheep to mate with our lonely ewe. He tended to them each day, and it wasn’t long before we had baby lambs. When the youngsters grew big enough to be butchered, we celebrated their demise with a goat-water (or in this case sheep-water!) lime at the beach and curried or roasted lamb at home. There’s something very rewarding about eating the fruits of one’s labour, and the tender meat was delicious.
One day we acquired a baby ram goat, a pretty fellow who got along well with the sheep. He grew quickly, and Nik decided to buy a little ewe to keep him company. The ram was named Mango Face, the ewe Miss Daisy, and over a period of time they produced sweet babies. Unlike the sheep, Mango Face, Miss Daisy and her kids (who were also given names) became extremely attached to Nik. It was funny to watch them follow him about like puppies, and I know that Nik enjoyed the attention lavished on him with each trip to the farm. They pretty much ignored me, but then I rarely venture to that side of the property. Mango Face didn’t like me, would actually rear up on his hind legs if I got close, and I kept a wary eye on him in case he tried to butt me! Mango Face sadly became too aggressive, and was replaced with a younger ram from the mainland. It was sad to see Mango Face being loaded into a truck, but better that than getting damaged by those wicked horns!
Nik decided to keep only goats on the property, they were more fun than the sheep and a lot more intelligent. However, when I pointed out that the kids would soon be large enough to butcher my gentle husband balked. How can you eat an animal you’ve given a name to, an animal you’ve grown to love, an animal that’s given love in return? We had quite happily butchered and eaten the sheep, but the goats?? Nope, it wasn’t going to happen!
Nik still raises goats at the farm, and watching the new-born kids frolicking is a never-ending source of pleasure. We can only keep a small number of animals, so the kids are sold to the Meat Man once they’ve reached a certain age and others get to enjoy the fruits of Nik’s labours – we simply can’t bring ourselves to eat them.
I guess giving names to animals makes them too much like pets, and we don’t eat our pets!