Eight lovely black Angus steers. Beautiful boys, they are, with eyelashes to die for. They're little, and skittish, and they chased the dog all the way from the fenceline to the house paddock when they first saw her, which she seemed most unimpressed with. They know she's all bark. They'll graze our grass (and hopefully go some way to keeping the bracken and blackberries down), and in a year or two we'll send them off to market.
That's where these fellas have gone. This was taken in winter last year - they were HUGE when we dispatched them on Sunday afternoon. So shiny and fat they almost didn't fit up the race. The four of them took up more room in the holding pen than the eight newbies when they arrived. And now they are steak.
We get closer than most people to the meat they eat. We don't eat a lot of it. I think one of these days we'll probably make the leap from once-a-week meat eaters to full-blown vegetarians. In the meantime, we raise cattle. Our boys have a lovely life... It's what happens once they leave our top paddock that makes us a little quiet as the truck pulls out of the gate.
Unresolved moral quandary to be continued. Maybe once I bring myself to read the last 10 pages or so of 'Eating Animals'.