I was scanning over all the pictures I took on our cross country trek to San Diego in early September and I had to post my commentary on this one... well before Thanksgiving. As the truck was passing us at about 80 mph on the Interstate, there were feathers flying everywhere as I gazed into the passing crated truck carrying turkeys (for slaughter?). Thankfully we had the music on, even though the truck tires on the road would have drowned out any protest from the poor caged birds. Some of them had lost so many feathers during the high speed delivery that I could see little bald patches of skin through the fluttering feathers. Most of them just sat there immovable, as if they knew where they were going and resigned to their fate. But what distressed me was one turkey who poked his head through the grate and seemed to be mouthing a call for help. It was as if he was the only one who in the realization of where he was headed, became frantic and horrified, and at the risk of breaking his neck was calling for attention. My stomach turned thinking of the golden roasted turkey that has graced our Thanksgiving table for as long as I remember. I felt so sad for those birds, and am sure if I saw a truck of cows or pigs and saw one of them looking so distressed, I would probably not want to eat one for a long time. Now I understand what prayers before meals are for... thanking the living creatures for their sacrifice for the sake of our nourishment. I know it's a long way off until Thanksgiving, and I can't be sure that this disturbing image will not haunt me, but if indeed I do forget the fate of the Thanksgiving bird and the suffering scene of the ride to the "turkey factory," I will at least say a prayer of thanks to our "food" as I drizzle the gravy over my vegetables. Will I ask to eat the drumstick as I normally do? I think not.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Turkey Truck
I was scanning over all the pictures I took on our cross country trek to San Diego in early September and I had to post my commentary on this one... well before Thanksgiving. As the truck was passing us at about 80 mph on the Interstate, there were feathers flying everywhere as I gazed into the passing crated truck carrying turkeys (for slaughter?). Thankfully we had the music on, even though the truck tires on the road would have drowned out any protest from the poor caged birds. Some of them had lost so many feathers during the high speed delivery that I could see little bald patches of skin through the fluttering feathers. Most of them just sat there immovable, as if they knew where they were going and resigned to their fate. But what distressed me was one turkey who poked his head through the grate and seemed to be mouthing a call for help. It was as if he was the only one who in the realization of where he was headed, became frantic and horrified, and at the risk of breaking his neck was calling for attention. My stomach turned thinking of the golden roasted turkey that has graced our Thanksgiving table for as long as I remember. I felt so sad for those birds, and am sure if I saw a truck of cows or pigs and saw one of them looking so distressed, I would probably not want to eat one for a long time. Now I understand what prayers before meals are for... thanking the living creatures for their sacrifice for the sake of our nourishment. I know it's a long way off until Thanksgiving, and I can't be sure that this disturbing image will not haunt me, but if indeed I do forget the fate of the Thanksgiving bird and the suffering scene of the ride to the "turkey factory," I will at least say a prayer of thanks to our "food" as I drizzle the gravy over my vegetables. Will I ask to eat the drumstick as I normally do? I think not.
