Awareness of animal exploitation began when a friend ridiculed me for my lack of awareness that milk was produced by lactating cows. I had never given that a second thought — and why would I?
I had been blindly going about my life eating animals and drinking their milk.
It took only one click on the World Wide Web to set me on a new path. I began to consume more information and fewer animals. Curiosity fueled my journey, and I never looked back.
I was compelled to learn about lactating cows, and learn I did! Simply stated, female cows are kept pregnant to keep them lactating, hence the continuous flow of milk. To make matters even more insufferably cruel, her calves are stripped away from her at birth. Females are added to the milk producing lines, males are relegated to veal. This realization was but the tip of the iceberg. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.
As a young child, I felt a kinship to nature, forming bonds with rocks, leaves, and small woodland objects. Birds and wildlife fascinated me. More than simply “wildlife,” connecting with their presence allowed me to feel deeper bonds with all “inanimate” objects and animate beings. Everything was alive and touched me deep within.
Why then, had I allowed myself to be led into a lifestyle which partook in the exploitive abuse and consumption of animals? In my child-like mind, the cow’s milk I drank was from happy-go-lucky, free-ranging-in-a-sunny-meadow cows. Yet, here I was, faced with new, adult information, and I was appalled. How could I have possibly participated in such mindless cruelty? I considered myself to be a compassionate person, never consciously causing harm to other beings. For goodness sake, I relocated bugs from inside my house, to outside; and no, I couldn’t hurt a flea — so why was I contributing to animal cruelty? It didn’t line up.
The blinders removed from my eyes; I recognized food sources as living, sentient beings, beings that love one another, feel joy and conversely feel pain. They endure inordinate amounts of suffering to satisfy our palette. Once that information found its way into my head, it was delivered directly to my heart, and I could not imagine ever eating anything with a face again.
I began to see animals in a vividly clear light.
A visit to Farm Sanctuary in Watkins Glen, New York, afforded me the opportunity to lie side-by-side with pigs four times my size. I served Thanksgiving dinner to the turkeys, I wandered the fields amongst the rescued cows and even got to share some love with the famous “Freedom,” who captured national media attention in 2002 — escaping from a Cincinnati slaughterhouse.
Every step I took away from eating animals brought me closer to grasping the essence of these animals. I became involved with Farm Sanctuary and other organizations to support ending the plight of factory farmed animals.
As a child of the 1950s, my main sustenance revolved around animals. Steak, burgers, pork chops, chicken and milk were all staples in our house. I never once connected steak or burgers to a cow, never saw its face; the same with pork or chicken. I never thought about the origin of the food on my plate, with the exception of our Easter chicks, which became the centerpiece of a family barbeque when I was eleven years young, but that’s another story for another time.
My food sources now front and center — I saw their faces. I could not take another bite. Not only did I choose not to eat them anymore, I became an educator, advocate, health counselor and voice for the animals.
However, nothing compares with the intimate relationships I have nurtured with our own backyard chickens, our family, our love bugs, over the past sixteen years. Chickens have taught me firsthand that they are intelligent, social beings. They form deep bonds with one another, communicating by using their eyes, voices and feet. The pecking order is simply understood amongst their flock, and they express love for their humans, similar to the ways in which dogs do. Yes, they come when they are called, and yes, our chickens have their own names, to which they respond.
My five-and-a-half-year-old bantam, Zelda, who fits into the palm of my hand, comes when I whistle for her. When she needs some loving, she’ll fly up to my shoulder and nestle her beak and her being into my hair. Colonel, our brilliant golden rooster, takes his role of protector extremely seriously, He keeps a watchful eye over his flock of girls, will always make sure they eat first, and loves baths, blow-dries and cuddling.
Goldie and Colonel basking in the sun.
Recently Colonel has developed arthritis in his left foot and finds it challenging to put that foot down, let alone walk. I have the distinct honor of being his caretaker in every sense. He puts his complete trust in me and literally places his life in my hands. I cannot imagine us having a deeper, more spiritual connection than the one we share.
As he sits on my lap and drinks in the Reiki energy I pass along, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for his friendship and for my contribution to ending the suffering of animals.
© 2019 ALL Rights Reserved. Listen To Thyself with Diane Marie Ford. Share this article to your heart’s content, but please do not use it without my written permission. Thank you.
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