7/23/2017 2 Comments Rabbit on the TruckI’m back at my writing desk after a week at the county fair--my youngest son’s first year as a 4H participant. After a beautiful time of celebrating youth achievement and animal husbandry, a jarring image brought me to tears last night: rabbit, grasped by the ears and thrown headlong into a truck.
Another 4H mom asked me if I’d seen “the truck,” and her tone told the whole story. She described how the truck came for market rabbits--the ones raised and sold for meat--and how disturbed her daughter was by the rough handling of them. “They even took a Mini Lop, a show rabbit, just ‘cause the owners didn’t want it anymore.” I thanked her for warning me, grateful the truck was long gone and the boy had run ahead. You see, one of those “meat rabbits” had played an important role in his competition. My son started rabbitry with one animal, an adorable black Netherland Dwarf. “Jason” is normally cooperative, but the heat and stress of the fair had gotten to him. He’d nipped at me on the first day, and when my youngest reached into the cage to remove him for the competition, Jason chomped on the cuff of his white Oxford shirt. He wailed. I pulled up his sleeve and hollered, “No blood! You’re OK!” But the boy was still hysterical. Just before this happened, a tall teen from the Junior Fair Board had offered to help my son with showmanship, where 4Hers flip their rabbits over to exhibit their animal’s underside--a sort of vet exam from very young hands. Now, this same teen volunteered to help get Jason out of the cage, and showed my son, again, how to carry the wily beast tucked in, with the eyes hidden. As they walked to the show table, my only hope was that my son would get through the competition. I stood behind the line, and a ball of black fluff bounded down the table’s green turf. Houdini had escaped. The tall teen approached me. “I’m gonna let him use one of my rabbits.” I nodded. A meat rabbit--a completely different breed--but docile. I sweated behind the red line, the line that forces 4H children to perform without parental help. My little boy, so serious, described his own rabbit and identified the breed of the loaner rabbit. I snapped pictures of him talking to the judge, and sitting on the bench after, his face etched with stress. When awards were announced, I kept my phone out for pictures, hopes sub-basement low. Seventh place, sixth, fifth, fourth, third, and second--my son’s name. Second? There has never been a parent so excited for second! And the flash started popping. Later, the judge approached me. “He answered every question correctly.” Which he could not have done without the loaner rabbit. No one “shows” at the fair without a creature in his hands. The next day, my son pushed his fingers through the unmarked cage of the meat rabbits. He wasn’t sure if the rabbit he was petting was the one he’d shown. “Do rabbits go to heaven, Mom? Will this rabbit go to heaven after it gets eaten?” I nodded, touched by my little St. Francis’ heart for animals. The tall teen smiled, bemused. Toward the end of the fair, my youngest briefly mentioned “rescuing” the rabbit he had shown. But he didn’t mention it a second time. Acquiring an animal shouldn’t be done on an impulse. He was sad that the rabbits were being raised for meat, but I explained--again--that the burgers and chicken nuggets that we eat were once creatures too. We respect vegetarians, but we’re not in that camp. Yesterday, I phoned my grandmother, age eighty-eight. She shared her fond memories of eating rabbit-both in her home country of Germany, and after moving to Appalachia with my Pappy. But she refrains from sharing these memories with my son. In my writing, I explore undertold stories. Perhaps one of these undertold stories is that of rural kids and their unique relationship with animals. Creatures great and small play multiple roles in our lives. I explored this concept in my novel CIRCUS. Where is the line between use and misuse of an animal? How can we do it in a way that preserves dignity for all parties? I once read that some Native American hunters thanked an animal before taking its life for materials and meat. I don’t think the rabbit truck crew went to that much trouble. But in my heart, I am thanking the rabbit whose last act was allowing a nervous nine-year-old to poke and prod him. We can’t always prevent the truck from doing what it’s paid to do. But we can celebrate the compassion that our children learn from working with creatures great and small.
2 Comments
Janet
7/23/2017 02:18:06 pm
That was a really thoughtful reflection on the confusion, as well as the need for balance and compassion, when working with animals that serve as both pets and food. Farmers and ranchers go through this all the time and I know that getting attached to animals that are killed for food is a big no-no, but at the same time, I think it takes a bit of our humanity away to not recognize, in some way, that these creatures have lives and value of their own. Yes, we live in a consumptive world where something is always consuming something else, but we can still recognize the importance of all the lives within the food cycle.
Reply
7/23/2017 02:28:36 pm
Thank you, Janet, for your thoughtful reflections. Agreed.
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
Elena Vale WahlI blogged much more when my kids were small. Hoping my quality supplants quantity. Archives
June 2022
Categories |