After eating fresh herbs in the greenhouse, hanging out with the long haired meat cows and petting the sheep in the pasture, feeding the 12 little piglets and watching them dig with their nose in the soil (perhaps that is the fascination? Could they be looking for worms???) we finally got to the chickens and I was sold. They even let us INTO the chicken coop and since I was at the end of the line (OF KIDS) I had to make sure none of the little gals escaped. Only two tried but man, they are sneaky little things!
At one point Farmer Leah, our guide, told us that the reason a few of them were clucking so enthusiastically was because they were showing off that they had laid eggs (either that or they were in hysterics about the huge brown thing that just fell out of them..."My insides are falling! My insides are falling!") According to our guide though, they like everyone to know when they lay eggs. I was like, well duh, even we humans do that. Think of all the baby announcements we send out or, for something even the guys out there can relate to, think back to when you've had to go to the bathroom really bad and when you're done you are like, "Oh my gosh!" and then you start calling to whoever is around, "You HAVE to come see this!" And those of you who are all prim and proper and denying you would ever even think such a thing, you really need to get in touch with your inner-hen. And if you seriously have no idea what I am referring to, you obviously didn't grow up with brothers and if you did, the tail of their y chromosome must've been partly broken!
At any rate, we had a wonderful time, and true to form, Madeline remained in love with the pigs. So, last night, I made a big ham and as Madeline was trying a bite she asked, "Does ham come from animals?" I knew I was in trouble.
"Yes," I said, not going into any details for which she didn't ask.
"What animal makes ham?" she asked. (Drats!)
"Well, ham comes from pigs," I answered, holding my breath.
"Yay! Piggies!" she squealed, giggling and putting her hand out for more. Seriously, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried....she loves pigs yet is ecstatic she gets to eat them....I suppose from now on when she gets upset and tells me how mean I am for giving her a consequence and runs up to her room saying she doesn't like me, I will be more grateful!
With Phil's beef farming background, we've had no problem laying it out there that they hamburger we eat comes from a cow, etc, etc. I didn't realize how unintentionally vague we were being when Karoline asked me the other day, "So how do they get the meat out of the cow?" Hmmmm....ReplyDelete
Luckily Grandpa showed up a day later and told her exactly how they slaughter and butcher the cows, right after he showed her the stub of a finger he lost on a tractor wagon 30-something years ago.
I just moved some money over from checking to our "Karoline's future therapy" account.