The 4th of October was, like every year, World Animal Day. It’s not only a day for commercial and marketing people to enjoy. It’s also the feast day of Francis of Assisi, who was a nature lover and now is the patron saint of animals and the environment. Allegedly, in some countries this day is celebrated with blessings in churches and donations to animal welfare foundations.
Matt and I love animals, but don’t care too much for World Animal Day. Instead of hugging random animals we went out and ate very fancy. Matt ordered a fish that the WWF is discouraging us to eat. I ate a nice bit of guinea fowl.
It was delicious, but it did make me think about personal boundaries people have with food.
Now, a boundary is something else than disliking the taste. For me, there’s a huge difference between what I don’t like to eat and what I don’t want to eat. I start shivering at the thought of eating any kind of squid. I won’t be found eating crab, lobster, shrimps or any shellfish voluntarily. And I also don’t like the sight and smell of organs. But morally, I don’t think I really question their edibility.
It’s an often recurring discussion. A discussion that always shows the inevitable hypocrisy of people. People that won’t eat lamb, because they are cute, but do eat bio industry pork and beef. Hello, at least your lamb was allowed to freely walk through the meadows! People that turn vegetarian because they feel sad for the animals that are slaughtered, but do continue to eat fish. Hello, fish is slowly disappearing out of our oceans! You are participating in genocide!
I don’t think this kind of hypocrisy is a problem. Human beings are omnivores and meant to eat anything and everything. Therefore rules about meat eating are always personal and never natural. For me it’s the conscious decision that matters. A conscious way of eating another being that has died for your food. Everybody creates their own set of conscious rules about food throughout their lives.
The first time I was shocked into thinking about meat was at a Christmas dinner. I must have been 15 or so. My mum had made hare. I didn’t think twice and tasted it. Then I felt how the lively and energetic juices flew over my tongue and through my veins. This hare had seriously been very much alive. I started to cry. I made up my mind: no game meat for me.
My second sane shocker was at another Christmas dinner, this time at Evil Ex’s dad’s house. He had been instructed not to cook game. But Willard’s family wouldn’t be his family if they didn’t push the rules a bit. And so he made rabbit. “Tame, so it hasn’t been shot…” he smirked. It didn’t taste or feel right. Apparently my personal rules thus far weren’t sufficient. But instead of adjusting the rules, I let go of all of them.
Until I got a real proper job. The one where I met Matt. The one with the many booze-filled occasions. I remember eating out with some colleagues. I recall eating kangaroo. But I haven’t got the faintest idea how it tasted.
That was my turning point. I felt I respected animals enough to at least actually taste their taste. I there and then came up with very clear rules that made sense for me personally and that still apply in present time.
I still won’t eat shellfish and organs. That’s a matter of taste. But according to my rules I can only eat hoofed animals, poultry and fish. This way I can rule out animals that are too close genetically, like rabbit and kangaroo, or that don’t make sense anyway, like frog legs or crocodile. However, according to my rules a chicken and a duck or pheasant are the same and thus I can still eat something fancy every now and then. Of course these rules aren’t flawless. But at least they work.
How about you? Do you have personal rules about meat eating? And how did you come up with them?
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