Sadness in His Eyes

I never realized I was a vegetarian till someone asked me when I became one. When I shrugged my shoulders and told them I had no idea. I began to wonder when it had happened.

Going home after that conversation I looked through my fridge and freezer to find no meat. I could have sworn that I had bacon recently or was it fish? I run my eyes over the shelves in the fridge. I have my “eat first” produce basket so that I know what I brought in first. I have the oat milk that I made that morning because I am not going to pay grocery store prices for something so simple to make. I have my eggs from the chicken, cheese, different kinds of berries and my leftovers.

For some odd reason not having a defining moment of such a big choice worries me. How could I forget a moment like that?

Focusing on trying to remember I make coffee adding lemon extract and rosemary before adding the light roast coffee that I had ground that morning. I put my moka pot on my gas stove, lighting the burner I stand there waiting, lost in my thoughts.

I smile as I smell the aroma filling the air. Coffee is a cleansing scent. The coffee experts will tell you that it's an olfactory palate cleanser. Which might be true but honestly I drink it because it relaxes me.

I have to use pot holders to hold and pour my moka pot. I have had it for so long that the handle has long since been gone. Pouring it into my Stoneware mug I add honey from my bees.

As you might have guessed by now I could never be vegan, cheese and honey are my weakness.

I curl my legs under me as I sit on the couch. I remember every time my friends had asked if I had seen any of the slaughterhouse documentaries. I always sidestepped the questions since I haven’t but I know the process.

It hit me then, when it happened.

As a person even when I was a little one I loved animals. I always had an understanding that they are alive, they have a soul. They are by no means mindless “things” that have no thoughts or feelings.

I was maybe seven. We were headed to my fathers side of the family for Thanksgiving. I remember the drive always seemed to take forever. Driving from northern Utah to southern Colorado felt like I lost years. What I remember about this trip were two things.

The first was falling in love with wildlife being in the wild. I was the only one awake besides my dad who was driving. We were driving and the dawn of daylight was breaking over the top of the mountain that the road was on. Out of the right of the road down below was a valley, surrounded by a dense forest of ponderosa pine trees.

I watched admiring the beauty below when a deer shot out of the tree line. It was moving fast without a heard. I remember my brow furrowing as I tried to figure out what was going on. Seconds later a mountain lion shot from the same spot of the tree line pursuing its prey. I could not speak. My heart beat raced. I wanted to yell for the deer to move faster. Yet, as we rounded the corner of the road I saw the mountain lion grip onto the deers backside.

I will never know if the deer was able to get away. After witnessing such an amazing part of the natural world, I understood a tiny bit better. There is a balance in nature.

The second thing I remember was visiting my aunt and uncle on their cattle ranch.

We always made the rounds to visit everyone during our short visits. Being a young small child in a very country way of living place, I began to explore and wander a bit.

I remember walking out to the wood fence line and climbing up onto the slats wanting to see what was behind them.

That is when I saw him. He was not like the bulls I had seen when I had gone to the rodeo. He was not like the bull from the children’s book who loved flowers. He kind of reminded me of a “hippie”. He was just hanging out chewing his hay like he was just chilling.

Granted he was huge but I was small. I remember locking eyes with him and they looked sad. Maybe it was because he was all alone? Maybe it was because he knew that he was being used for two things? Maybe just maybe he was a bull that wanted to smell flowers in the fields but had accepted his fate?

It was the second time I remember my brow furrowing trying to figure out what was going on and what was going to happen.

I remember my uncle coming out and telling me how he was going to be in the freezer soon. That they had named him dinner. In my mind I had an understanding at a young age that you only kill to eat or to keep from being eaten. I was told that it was the law of the jungle.

Looking at this bull though, I remember my stomach dropping as the feeling of overwhelming sadness filled me. He was to be eaten even though I knew he did not deserve to die.

No, I did not stop eating meat after that trip. I didn’t stop eating meat until I went to college and that in part was because of the price. It was by no means for political or environmental reasons. It was a slow process that began the day after seeing the bull behind the slats with the sadness in his eyes.