In 2014 we raised two pigs, Arcturus and Gaspari. We loved them dearly. Like big dogs, they’d roll over to get their stomach rubbed. Then they’d roll back to get their butts, ears and chins scratched. They grunted and I swear they purred too. Truth be told, I liked them more than I like most people and cried like a baby the day my farmer-friend transported them to the slaughterhouse for us. They were beautiful, fascinating animals and they fed us well.
For me, that was also my pig-season-of-amends because a few years earlier, probably ‘06-ish, I’d joined a local food-pig project that went horribly wrong; we were communally raising a pig and then slaughtering it for our own freezers. I attest to this day that it was an arrogant and idiotic thing to do to any animal, especially one as grand as the pig. Because we weren’t farmers and most importantly, we were not trained in on-farm slaughter (OFS). In that ill-fated pig’s end, the animal suffered needlessly. As a participant (not the slaughterer), I did too. That experience deeply affected me and changed my professional trajectory. I then worked tirelessly to build a mobile slaughterhouse to support local farmers’ access to size-appropriate, above-board, humane slaughter. This was a bigger project than I ever imagined. Swearing on those pig’s bones that not-on-my-watch, would another human do what I did in the name of “local food”.
I also wrote my first book about it, to help other communities embark on building this challenging yet necessary piece of infrastructure. The Mobile Poultry Slaughterhouse; Building a Humane Chicken-Processing Unit to Strengthen Your Local Food System was published by Storey in 2013, ten years ago. My friend, Dr. Temple Grandin wrote the foreword and I remain humbled, grateful.
Yet my book, in some circles, was maligned because my lived experience was on Martha’s Vineyard. So it was easy to dismiss it and me as a hippy-housewife’s dilettante story from a place where only the wealthiest jet-in, not to work + just frolic, and to always afford top dollar for locally-raised island meat.
While the Vineyard owns its tony reputation honestly, it isn’t of course, all Teslas, McMansions and ocean views. The other side of the postcard is a complicated year-round island culture and economy that has the same, if not exasperated societal issues of homelessness and affordable housing, immigration, food insecurity, poverty, addiction. And farmers face the same exasperating barriers to slaughter that small to mid-size farmers across the country face, because of how the commodity meat industry is vertically integrated, regulated and consolidated by corporate control. This means that access to off-farm brick + mortar slaughterhouses, for any small to mid-sized farming enterprise, is limited or more than likely, not available at all due to long distance transport (which includes stress on live animals) and high costs.
As a result, small local farming enclaves and rural communities - non-industrial farming economies across this country - are all islands.
And these communities often experience some form of double whammy; being cut off because of corporate consolidation, and then being marginalized and/or threatened by local and/or state regulatory agencies, should farmers pursue the on-farm slaughtering of their animals. Even though many farmers want on-farm slaughter as an option and have consumers/customers who want their product.
Consequently anyone who eats, is also being shut out of their right to having a choice of the kind of food they want.
Lately, this fight (and it is a fight in the truest sense of the word) is making me nostalgic for Arcturus and Gaspari, my amend-pigs.
In my opinion, governing agencies and states that truly support the viability of their resident farmers by supporting on-farm slaughter, ought to be celebrated and celebrating. They should proclaim all their good works and share all their success stories and how-to’s with departments of agriculture everywhere. Yet it’s a constant battle even since Covid broke down industrial meat supply chains at “meatpacking plants, food processing facilities, and farms” over and over again.
You’d think the Collective-We would’ve learned from that; that big supply chains are fragile. That the shorter the supply chain - the more resilient, the more reliable, transparent, and arguably, the safer the supply chain. I have thoughts about why this is too, but for another time, perhaps.
We’ve since moved from Massachusetts to Vermont, where I have an up-close and personal view of my neighboring farm’s seasons and cycles. When itinerant slaughterer Mary Lake comes to handle their animals professionally with compassion, care, and cleanliness, I cook a vegetarian work lunch for them all. Honestly, it’s the very least I can do.
I’ve also gone on to get my master’s of Food and Ag Law and Policy from Vermont Law School and have become better acquainted with Rural Vermont’s role as leadership advocates and educators as to why itinerant slaughterers are integral to farmers' economic viability in the state. Rural Vermont’s Legislative Director, Caroline Gordon, is in DC this week with Mary Lake. They are lobbying for on-farm slaughter (OFS) and sharing its back-story which includes explaining the demand from farmers and eaters for itinerant slaughterers - this respected, highly-skilled, viable job, in this important niche trade.
I implore you this: Even if you don’t eat meat, wherever you live, please learn more about food sovereignty, corporate consolidation and what it takes to get food from the field or pasture to anyone’s fork. The National Family Farm Coalition is a reliable and trusted resource. Please also consider that farmers everywhere, who are isolated and marginalized because of industrial agribusiness and their local government, need your support as do organizations like Rural Vermont and my old haunts: the Farm-to-Consumer Legal Defense Fund and the Niche Meat Processor Assistance Network.
When I was on book tour for Mobile Poultry Slaughterhouse, my publicist told me not to admit that I’d never actually slaughtered a chicken, or any other animal for that matter because they thought it’d damage my credibility as an author. But I was never settled with that. I still think it was a missed opportunity, as well as a grave miscalculation of the audience’s ability to hold this seeming contradiction; that I could have know-how in the multitudes + realms of slaughter without having done it.
To this day I still don’t have it in me, to slaughter an animal, and that’s exactly why I think we need more Mary Lakes in the world. I think that this is a powerful call to action - that as an eater, I (and farmers for that matter) shouldn’t have to “look meat in the eyes” in order to be a steward of the land, a supporter of local ag systems, a responsible consumer.
Here’s the thing: There’s no ‘local food badge of honor’ in slaughtering an animal if/when you don’t know what the hell you are doing. In fact, it’s the quite the opposite. It’s a disgrace.
My community pig project taught me traumatic lessons that you don’t have to learn. I found that there are many paths to forge support for local and regional farmers who are raising food in ways that align with my values. Building a mobile slaughterhouse was one of them. Being an advocate, a cook with a voice is another. But what I want to hear is - what’s your why?
Thanks for reading + let me know what you think. I’m glad we’re here.
~ ali
Dad always made sure we knew where our food came from . . . and he was such a big fan of yours (as am I).
Great article Ali❤️. We did onsite mobile slaughter last year for our four, and I’ll never go back (to the days of transporting animals in our livestock trailer to the slaughterhouse). The guy that arrived was super compassionate and efficient and so knowledgeable. We talked through the whole process, I helped calm and position the hogs with treats beforehand, then held and massaged to ensure good bleeding, and I swear those hogs got the last laugh as I almost got hypothermia watching the process (like seriously).
I still butcher my own broilers if I have time, but they are small and manageable and I can do it quickly/humanely (they don’t know what’s coming). It’s not enjoyable, but if we’re gonna eat meat, while living on this farm, I’ll provide it.
Thank you for sharing how hog slaughter is such an undertaking and should be considered carefully for the well-being and humane slaughter of such amazing creatures. You write so eloquently. Thank you❤️