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Earlier this month I headed up to Blanchardville, WI, for a grave and momentous occasion. Our old friends Mark Kessenich and Linda Derrickson decided it was time to haul their mulefoots Cong and Cherry to a small, organically certified slaughterhouse some 35 miles north. A large part of this decision was economically motivated–they simply couldn’t afford to carry the pigs through the winter (where have I heard that before?). This in no way made it an easy thing to do, and the pain of the sacrifice was compounded by the fact that about three months earlier the boars Cong and Churchill had broken out of their pasture, and now Cherry was pregnant and pretty close to farrowing. Her unborn piglets would be lost.
When we arrived at the slaughterhouse Cong and Cherry were standing quietly and motionlessly in their respective trailer compartments. If they sensed any danger, they didn’t appeared to be stressed. Nevertheless I couldn’t help but project my own hangups a little. I thought they looked sad and a little resigned.
