Bone To Pick (Disgusting Pun Intended)

I’ve got a problem with Temple Grandin’s book Animals Make Us Human.  I was really going to let my frustration about this book subside.  Partly because I’m sure everyone is tired of my bottomless interest in animal welfare and partly because I don’t know if I can come off without sounding like a raving animal rights looney.  Well, readers and labels be damned, I just can’t help myself.

My problem with this text is very specific and limited.  I dig some of the writing.  There is just the small problem of the chickens (and all their welfare represents).

See, the first portion of Animals Make Us Human outlines in detail the emotional welfare issues at stake with cats, dogs and horses.  Among these is an animal’s innate need to be free to do doggy/kitty/horsey things.  Gradin even goes so far as to suggest that free-roaming dogs may be less safe, but they are probably emotionally healthier than their house-bound-bored-stiff brethren.  I tend to agree.

The last portion of the book considers the welfare of wildlife in captivity , particularly those in zoos.  Much is made of the importance of a zero stress environment.  So much so that Gradin advises against tranquilizing animals for blood sample collection.  Rad. I’m with her.

Then there is the middle portion of the book devoted to cows, pigs and chickens.  You know where I’m going with this.  Stockyards and slaughterhouses.  This isn’t the vegetarian in me writing; this is the kid raised in a farm-like environment at the keyboard.  I won’t argue with Grandin’s analysis of cattle and pigs.  That would be presumptuous of me.  I don’t know enough about their behavior.  However, when it comes to chickens, just call me field-observer extraordinaire.

My childhood saw a better part of many afternoons inside a chicken coop or carrying around one of my grandfather’s bantam hens.   These chickens were the kind I would consider healthy physically and emotionally.

Grandin mentions that chicken welfare requires the reduction or elimination of certain industry practices.  Still, I don’t think this is the end of the issue.  The behaviors Grandin cites (excessive pecking, feather pulling, aggression etc.)  are, in my (limited) experience, signs of chicken insanity. Healthy chickens don’t do these things with any consistency.  Also, I’m not sure what separates these chickens from the chickens in the petting area of the zoo or peacocks, guinea fowl and other common zoo birds.  According to Gradin’s logic, zoo chickens would be handled with kid gloves while industry chickens, well, let’s just hope they don’t suffer needless injury or go crazy from totally un-chicken-like housing.  And then.  And then.  If that chicken becomes a pet, all sorts of other standards begin to be applied. Thinking about animal welfare this way has always made my brain want to explode.  I just don’t see the distinction.  Aren’t all chickens created chicken?

What saddens me most is that I suspect industry chickens aren’t simply becoming insane over time, but more and more often, are born that way.  It takes no time at all to breed ten generations of chickens in captivity.  Over time, family lines may become permanently and detrimentally rewired.  You can’t create an environment ensuring welfare if you’ve genetically screwed the entire population.  That, to me, is the cruelest trick.  What’s the point of having chickens around at all if their lives are one consistent misery?  Regardless of whether engineered meat makes the practice of keeping meat animals obsolete and thereby threatens their population on this planet (or creates new and novel welfare issues), at least a chicken breast grown in a petri dish won’t suffer. Industry, as represented by the thoughtful and good-intentioned Gradin and many others, seems totally incapable of solving the animal welfare issues it’s created.

PS – Slap me on the back next time you see me because I restrained myself from re-writing this whole entry to accommodate some tirade against Pilgrim’s Pride and its kind.

A Metaphor for My Childhood. Brought to Me By Papa John’s:

And Christ effed up my order.

Ginger Tea for Cramps

Recipe for Ginger Tea:

three-inch section of ginger root, finely grated

4 cups of water

 

Today  I stood over the stove with a cheese grater and shredded ginger root into a pot of water.  After bringing the water to a boil, I let it sit for 5 minutes.  At that time, the color of my tea was a dark yellow.  I then strained out the ginger bits and poured myself a cup of ginger tea. Oh, and I added a tad honey.

I’m a lover of all tea chai because of that spicy kick.  Ginger tea is spiced tea gone wild – there is some HEAT  in this stuff. Surprisingly, I really liked it.  Also, I found that it did temporarily relieve my cramping.  This isn’t the same sort of relief that I would get from popping a few Advil, but it also doesn’t have the ugly rebound pain I always get when a pain reliever wears off.  Regardless, I would drink this tea just because I enjoyed the taste – especially as a winter-time relaxer.

 

Have a Happy Alternative Period

Look what came in the mail today!  I can’t overstate how much gladrags.com rocks in terms of shipping.  I placed my order on October 29 and here it is on November 2.  Amazon should take notes.

My order consisted of the gladrags moon cup kit, which includes a moon cup and two washable pads.  My cup is size A – designated for those over 30 or who’ve given birth vaginally.  Size B is for girls who’ve never given birth vaginally and are under 30.  Although technically size B should be my fit, there is only a 3mm difference in the cup sizes and I felt that I should round my age up.  After all, I’m  waay closer to 30 than say, 17.  These sizes refer to muscular fitness within your vagina, which naturally deteriorates with age.

The package couldn’t have come at a better time as I am just starting my period today.  Now, The Keeper people advise you to wait until the last two days of your cycle to do your trial run, but I’ve never been one for waiting so I dove right in.

I had prepared myself for a learning curve and fully expected to be trying at getting my moon cup in place for a while.  This video cut my practice time by a zillion and I actually got it in comfortably and correctly the first time.  Here’s the next minor miracle:after trimming the stem, I don’t even feel it.   Not one bit.  No adjustment period.  No weirdness.  Not at all the same unpleasantness as say the first time you insert a tampon.  NO leaks so far.  No complaints.  I’m thinking of buying all of my menstruating girlfriends  one of these for Christmas!

Eat Brains!

Ready to Corpse It

Glad Girl

You may have noticed that I’ve been reading a lot of girl-centric lit lately.  Now that I’m into “Bust” and browsing feministing.com, I can’t believe how much information about myself that I’ve missed.   At the moment I’m deep into Cunt, which is hands-down the most educational thing I’ve read all year.  And that’s down-right embarrassing because Cunt is all about me.  How did I let things go this far?  Why did I rely on Mrs. Couvillion in 5th grade to explain everything I need to know about my body in four one hour sessions?  Shockingly, she left some stuff out.

For example : we were told that there are two methods for catching period flow.  1) pads 2) tampons.  Nobody said anything about other options. Nobody.  In 28 long cotton absorbing years. Even though options abound.

Lately I’ve been thinking about individual responsibility. 

Just for the sake of knowing, I looked up approximately how much waste my disposed tampons and/or pads would add up to in a lifetime.  Guess how much?  AN EFFING GARBAGE TRUCK TON! I damn near keeled over.  What’s the point of boycotting the meat industry (partially) because of environmental concerns if you are going to contribute fully a ton more waste than  your male sibling?

Then there is that additional issue of feminine products not having to disclose “ingredients” a.k.a. – shit we bleach this cotton with.  Have you ever noticed that?

Hi.  This cotton is bleached but we’re not going to tell you with what.  Except that back in the ’90’s we were using a carcinogen and before that we got caught for doing the same thing.  Thanks.  Have a nice, short-lived reproductive system.  We swear we’ve changed. (There are bleach free, biodegradable, organic tampons, I’ve learned.)

These two things together scared the semi-environmentally-conscious-octogenarian-wantabe crap out of me.  So I started looking into other options.  Turns out there are some really great ones. I totally recommend visiting gladrags.com.

I would love to know if any of my friends have tried an alternative to tampons and pads.   I’m going to chronicle my experience with the moon cup here so that other gals can hopefully benefit from my little experiment.  But what I’m hoping more for is to generate a sort of touchstone.

A community.

Let’s talk.  How come we aren’t? How come we are talking about other people’s hair/relationships/addiction to purse-sized dogs but not this?

I’m still working up the nerve to talk to a 13-year-old girl in my life about the new things I’m learning so that she doesn’t have to wait 15 years to find out.  It shouldn’t be like this.

One Rattie Does not a Mischief Make

Several weeks ago Pippy died, which leaves Maddie all alone.  Always, my mischief has held steady at three rats.   Before there was Maddie there was Ash the rescue rat.   Now Maddie has slipped into something I can only characterized using human terms: she seems depressed. 

This event coincides with my reading of  Animals Make Us Human.  While I don’t find myself agreeing with some of Temple Gradin’s suppositions, I do find her intuitive understanding of animals sublime.  And Grandin makes the point: animals have feelings.   Yes.  Emotions. 

Not everyone would agree.  I can’t speak to all of the reasons why people are reticent to accept that animals feel,  but I can speak to what I’ve witnessed in my own life that makes me an unflinching believer. 

I recall an ex who was willing to admit rats are smart.  This multi-degreed man spent months at war with an invading rat.  Try as he did, my ex never caught that rat.  So the rat was smart. But did the rat feel sad?  Happy?  He didn’t seem to believe so.

In the last few weeks I’ve watched Maddie’s behavior roller-coaster.  At first, she ate little and slept a lot.  Later, she was slow-moving and quiet. When I hold her, she bruxes (teeth chattering) like crazy – a behavior scientifically linked to rattie pleasure.  My conclusion: Maddie’s losses this fall are being felt as losses.  It’s not just an empty mischief.  It’s the missing specific rats.  And her grief looks eerily similar to mine or yours. 

I don’t know if we will ever be able to qualify these sort of things, but for me, these little moments are the proof I need.  Animals think and feel.

Practice

Bridal (Undead) Headband

Started putting the Corpse headpiece together today and this is where I am so far.  It’s lovely how much fun I can have on 10 dollars at Hobby Lobby.