a gentle place

Posted By Harry on September 13, 2010

Every now and again you read something that strikes a chord so loud that at 4am when you’re awoken by spring rain dancing on the tin roof of the old farm cottage it crescendos like the strengthening wind gusting through the wind chimes and, eventually, at 5am, you get up and put fingers to keyboard because that’s the only way you’ll quieten it. Such was the effect on me of a recent post by Veganacious and in particular the line, ‘We must never demand that those who are speciesist in orientation join us where we are, but we must educate them and invite them in a way they can accept.’ In my last post on the horrors of what we do to horses I tried, in a far less eloquent and more cliched manner, to say the same thing, ‘All of us are on a journey, and mine feels like it’s just begun …’. I fear I then failed spectacularly in my attempt to ‘educate them and invite them in a way they can accept’ by ranting about how cruel anyone that did put shoes on their horse was. I did warn that I may lapse into ex-smoker behaviour (I too used to put shoes on our horses), but forewarning of upcoming poor delivery does not excuse the performance. So how, when so passionate about a cause, do you keep yourself in check and get your point across without causing the person in front of you to recoil from the barrage?

Practice silence and restraint and let the voiceless do the talking.

I cannot recall my voice ever having had much success in changing peoples’ diets but I’ve witnessed our animal family do it on numerous occasions. Just yesterday, as I was showing a friend around Avondale and introducing him to our large family, Lucy came bouncing, ducking and weaving across the paddock to meet us, with all the unmistakable joy that a bouncing, ducking, weaving 300kg pig could muster! Behold that sight – and that joy – a few more times and my friend may once again make the connection between joy-that-was and bacon, and choose something different for breakfast.

Lucy with Ruby behind her

I recall my father, after spending 4 weeks at Avondale and insisting that he feed all the animals twice daily, not able to choose his normal fare at the restaurant we visited the night before he left for instead of seeing food in the menu items he saw the faces of our family. And the 12 year old daughter of close friends who spent 3 days at Avondale and returned home a vegetarian, not because of anything we said, but because every animal stole her heart.

So I’ll try and rant less, and put fingers to keyboard to help our animals speak more. Their stories, their love, their joy are far more powerful.

Categories: Animals & us
Tags: Diet, Joy, Pigs, Silence