This morning I drove out to Holding Ranch, just up the road from my house, to pick up my first installment of my meat subscription. Normally they ship the monthly allotment of meat but being as I’m never home, that just wouldn’t work for me. Thankfully they are within a few miles of me, and on my short cycling route, so they let me swing by.
Having grown up in San Diego around vegetarians and animal lovers, I was already well aware of how the animals we eat are raised, processed and slaughtered. I always chose to just accept that I either had to put up with it or quit eating meat. I recently read the book Eating Animals and got a real good image of what really goes on with the food we eat, and it’s horrifying. It’s not only the incredibly unethical way we breed and raise animals, but the things that go into them both while they’re alive and during slaughter that can have a terrible impact on our health. I sincerely recommend the book.
In any case, I love meat and not ready to be a vegetarian both by choice as well as all practicality with working the job I do. It’s just really hard to get great nutritional value from lettuce sandwiches and skittles when I’m off burning thousands of calories on a fire.
I also realize when I’m away from home, the meat I’m eating is substandard and coming from “factory farms”. At this point in my life it just can’t be helped. But when I’m at home, I can make better choices about what I eat, not just for the ethical treatment of animals, but for my own health.
I went to a website called “Eat Wild” and came across a couple of ranches near my house. What’s the difference between farms and factory farms? We all envision farms as pastures and barns with chickens and cows wandering freely. That’s not what you eat. When you eat a chicken, you are eating an animal bred to be too heavy for its bones, so it can’t even run free if it wanted to. It’s born and raised in a single square foot cage. The government is very loose on labeling of food, so even your “cage free” chickens don’t see the light of day and they’re certainly not roaming around the farm. They’re pumped full of antibiotics, which you and I then eat. Our bodies absorb the antibiotics and let our bacteria grow resistant to them. The byproduct that gets absorbed into the meat during processing is disgusting. I couldn’t believe the description in the book.
So I wanted to eat better meat. As it turns out, real farms and ranches still exist. I cycle past these cows and chickens when I do my bike rides around Montague. Holding Ranch has a monthly subscription that you choose the amount of meat you get, and they ship it monthly. Like I said, they also let you come pick it up if it’s better for you.
Today I pulled up into the driveway of a little ranch house and was greeted by a couple of dogs and a huge herd of chickens. I realize chickens generally travel in flocks, but this was huge. It was a herd. And they all gathered around me, presumably waiting for food. I knocked on the front door but no one answered, so I wandered around the side of the house where I heard a noise. There was a banging coming from what looked like a freezer, so I approached it. Nearby two more dogs watched me.
“Hello?” I called out. That sent the dogs barking, as if they hadn’t seen me before.
A man popped out of the freezer and said “You’re Carrie!”
“I am!” I said.
“I’m Hunter.” He said, and I shook his hand. He was tossing frozen packages of meat into a box and set it out on the ground and then went to close the freezer door. One of the dogs immediately recognized the opportunity and grabbed a leg of lamb.
“Hey kiddo!” I said and snatched it from her.
“Hey now! Stop that” Hunter scolded the dog.
We went through my meat selection which was leg of lamb (boneless), pork sausage, ground beef, a large steak and a pot roast. I placed them in the bag I had brought with me and we walked toward the house for eggs and discussed how his daughter just graduated from UC San Diego. As we walked into the house, he called out to Anne, his wife, and she came out to meet me. We talked about the dogs and the ranch and their daughter. Then Anne took out a few dozen eggs and let me pick the carton I wanted. I chose the large and she opened them and explained what I was looking at.
“And that’s a something or other (I forget what she called it), but you probably knew that.”
I gave her a blank stare and said no, I didn’t. She seemed surprised and asked what all I knew about eggs. I told her I was a city girl and the only eggs I’ve ever had came from a grocery store. She asked if I had ever pulled an egg out from under a hen. I told her I hadn’t.
“Well put your things down and we’ll go get an egg. Have you ever held a chicken?”
I laughed, “No, I haven’t”.
We walked back outside where we were followed by the mass of chickens, and into a barn. She looked up to the ceiling and showed me a barn owl. Then she pulled a hen out of her roost and put her in my arms. There was also an egg under the hen which was warm. The hen fluttered a bit until Anne showed me how to hold her properly. I held her a few moments and stroked her feathers. After I set her down, we walked around looking for eggs. Between a couple hay bales, three hens were climbing on top of each other in the crevice.
“They’re standing in line. This is a popular spot.”
I figured I hadn’t heard her right. “They’re standing in line to lay an egg?” I asked.
“Yep.”
This seemed a little unreal to me. There were so many places on this ranch to squat and drop an egg. Why would three hens stand in line and push each other around to lay an egg in that one spot? My bewilderment showed.
“Well if you were a hen, where would you want to lay your eggs?”
Good question. Although looking back at it now, it’s not exactly like taking dump. I assume these ladies do not know whether or not their eggs have been fertilized, they just know they need to get to a private, quiet spot to lay down their potential babies…which led to another question. I kind of knew the answer but had to ask to be sure. I was like a 4 year old with my questions. Like how do we know it’s an egg and not a chick in there?
“These ladies haven’t had dates if you know what I mean.”
Ok, so it’s like us women who drop unfertilized eggs every month (in theory). Nice. It was funny because looking around, I couldn’t tell the hens from the roosters. They all had their little red things on their heads and beaks. Apparently there was only one rooster, and she pointed out the tail end of the guy as he took off running across the yard. Hmmmm. I didn’t get to ask…but how do we know that guy isn’t getting it on with the ladies?
Apparently someone is, because inside a shed, in a big tub with a heat lamp, are a bunch of baby chicks. She asked if I ever held one. I thought about it.
“Maybe once at the San Diego zoo?” I replied.
She brought out the cutest little chick who told me I should take him home. I didn’t though. Boy was he cute.
We saw the little pigs who were weaned from their mothers about a week ago…also wanted to come home with me. Their mothers were absolutely huge. Then we went and spent some time with a hybrid potbellied (I guess breeded with a regular pig or something because this guy was big for a pot belly) pig named Kenny. Kenny did not appreciate the dog Bosco (Anne kept apologizing for his bad haircut) that kept jumping around him.
The sheep were out to pasture and I believe the cows were too, I was much too busy with the animals running around me to notice.
Anne asked if I’d like to come by to see them process the chickens.
“She doesn’t want to see that” said Hunter.
I looked at him. “Yeah I’m not sure I’m ready for that…I don’t know, when is that happening?”
“Friday probably.”
“Hmmm. During the day I suppose. I gotta work.”
I was mostly relieved, but I’ve been thinking how if I’m going to eat the animals, I should probably suck it up and learn how they’re “processed” as well. For the city in all of us, processing basically means slaughtered. And then of course the de-feathering and cleaning. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle that. I grew up in the city where meat is a beautiful package found in the grocery store, but I feel like maybe looking the animal in eye before chopping off its head, plucking the feathers off and eating it would be the honest, responsible way to do it. Instead someone else does the dirty work for me…although, I save people’s houses and land. They’re not out there cutting fireline around their house, so I suppose it’s a give and take.
I got home and immediately plopped two eggs in a frying pan. They were delicious! For dinner I roasted the leg of lamb with garlic and rosemary. A week or so ago I told my captain about this place and he quickly said “Don’t go there, it’s not a good business model”. So because sustainable farming is not a profitable as factory farming, I shouldn’t support it? That doesn’t make sense. How about helping out the sustainable farms because it’s the right thing to do, even if it’s not the most profitable? Is it a bad business model simply because it values ethics over profit? Maybe. But maybe it shouldn’t be. I’m really excited to be supporting both my local community and a better world…as well as providing healthier foods for myself. I can literally visit the food I’m eating, just a couple miles away and see exactly how the animals live. Next time I’m there, Kenny and I are going to go for a walk and I’m going to give him a good brushing.
If you'd like to check out Holding Ranch, click here. To find other sustainable farms and ranches near you, got to Eatwild.com
