Eat Like You Give a Damn!

Jenny, Dylan (rescued as a veal calf) and Doug

Hello Crazy Sexy Posse! My name is Jenny Brown and I am the Co-Founder and Director of the Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary—a non-profit organization and shelter that rescues farm animals and works to end the systematic abuse of farm animals everywhere. I am mother to over 150 furred and feathered souls who have, in one way or another, been abused, neglected, discarded or abandoned. I am also a cancer survivor! Yay me!

At the wee age of 10 years old I was diagnosed with Osteogenic Sarcoma or — in other words — BONE CANCER (gasp!). I endured almost 3 long years of chemo and lost my lower right leg. I’m also a veggie-lovin’ vegan who grew up in Louisville, Kentucky and never even heard the word “vegetarian” until, uh, college? Seriously. There was rarely ever a vegetable cooked in my house that didn’t have a ham hock (aka: pig’s knee) in it! Every meal incorporated meat or dairy (usually both) until my first semester of college where not only did I hear the word “vegetarian” but I became one instantly after reading about the plight of farm animals. It was then that I made some life-changing connections between the meat on my plate and the miserable life of the individual it came from.

My guess is that if you’re a part of this online community you’re probably taking steps to get healthy, adopt a greener lifestyle, kick your cancer’s ass, or all of the above. I am sure you are also beginning to understand that adopting a well-balanced vegan diet is a great way to possibly achieve all these goals. And let’s not kid ourselves—old habits are hard to break. Changing your diet can be really challenging—especially since we live in a society where animal products are BEYOND prevalent—they are the mainstay. But if you need more reasons or motivation for moving towards a plant-based diet, how about 100 of them —because that is roughly the number of animals you will save each year by going vegan!

Andy the pig – rescued last summer from slaughter

And chew on these stats: The average meat eater is responsible for the deaths of some 2,400 animals during his or her lifetime. In more personal terms, during a 75-year life span, a typical U.S. resident is responsible for the suffering and death of 10 cows, 34 pigs and other small mammals, 2,535 turkeys, chickens and ducks, and uncounted numbers of aquatic animals. Good Lord! We’re walking graveyards!

Sadly, most people just don’t realize how dramatically meat and dairy production in the US has changed over the past 50 years. Those childhood images of happy animals living on sunny, idyllic farms couldn’t be further from reality. Virtually all animals that are raised for food — or their products — live miserable lives in intensive confinement in dark, overcrowded facilities called “factory farms.” These nasty corporate operations emphasize high volume and profit with little or no regard for the environment or humane treatment of animals.

Animals raised for food endure a life of suffering which is something not evident in the neatly wrapped packages of meat offered for sale at grocery store counters. We are so disconnected from the process of raising and killing animals that if you ask a child where meat comes from she might just say the freezer!

Albie wearing his artificial leg, Photo Credit: Ambers Clark

We pay others to do our dirty work. Bruce Friedrich (one of my heros!) asks, “ how many of us could spend an afternoon cutting animals’ throats, or even watching it? And then ask yourself in what other areas of your life do you pay others to do things you find too repulsive? And how ethical is it to pay someone to do things that are wholly unnecessary and too atrocious to watch?”

So just do it guys – cut out the meat and dairy! It’s so easy and when you really break it down, think of it this way: Is the trivial pleasure of your taste buds worth a life of misery for some poor nameless farm animal that feared death? That wanted to live? That mourns for the calves or the piglets torn from her? That suffered her entire life in a gestation crate or in a battery cage so that people can eat her flesh, her mammary secretions (milk) or her unfertilized embryos (ahem, eggs).

My husband Doug and I started Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary to not only help as many farm animals as possible but to get people thinking about the individuals behind the corpses on their plates. The ones who come through our doors are but a tiny fraction of the billions of animals suffering RIGHT NOW for the meat and dairy industries. But together with these animals our job is to raise a greater sense of ethical awareness—to fill the collective hole in the conscience of society—and hopefully in turn, save more animals by convincing people not to eat them.

Carli the dog acting as surrogate Mom for tiny Clover the goat

Sanctuaries are unique in that we have the opportunity to potentially open the hearts and minds of those of who visit. Seeing is believing, and once visitors are able to see and interact with these animals in a natural, loving environment, there is no denying that they think, feel and simply enjoy life.

So if the temptation of pepperoni pizza or that hamburger is stronger than your health-motivated will power, remember that those slices, that patty and those wings came from someone.

As Albert Schweitzer– the great humanitarian & philosopher—once said—“Think occasionally of the suffering of which you spare yourself the sight.” This is what I ask of people and what I ask of you. And if you need a good dose of ethical motivation, come on down to our sanctuary sometime and let your heart, not your habit, do the guiding!

Originally published February 19, 2009.

Culture Is No Defense for Cruelty

Through the years, I’ve heard many flimsy arguments from the apologists for animal abuse, and among the most persistent has been an appeal to cultural prerogative or tradition – in short, that the conduct in question is an expression of the “culture” of a particular nationality, community, ethnicity or race, and therefore, it should somehow be treated as sacrosanct. The bullfighters in Spain invoke culture as a defense for the staged stabbing or slaughter of a bull in arenas often packed full of non-Spaniards on vacation in the country. Or in Louisiana, the last state to outlaw animal fighting, cockfighters claimed that these staged slashing derbies, with knives attached to the birds’ legs to augment the bloodletting, are a Cajun tradition, even though the forebears of today’s Acadians seemed to have little to do with this ancient form of animal combat.

In March, The New York Times reported on the latest instance in which the values of animal protection and cultural identity appear at odds – the debate in California over the consumption of shark-fin soup. There, a broad coalition, including The Humane Society of the United States, is backing legislation to outlaw the possession, sale and trade of shark fins, which are the central ingredient in the soup that bears the same name.

There is a small minority within the Chinese-American community who have claimed the legislation to be a sort of thinly veiled cultural attack, and they want to preserve their right to see sharks caught, their fins slashed off, and their bodies dumped back in the ocean, so that the fanciers of this appetizer – a symbol of wealth and prestige – can eat their shark-fin soup in peace. To hell with the fact that up to 73 million sharks are killed across the globe each year for this soup. They want to eat the soup most describe as lacking flavor, and if so many sharks have to suffer and die for it, then so be it.

It seems that their recklessly selfish argument is, however, not quite as popular within the Asian and Asian-American communities as The New York Times piece may suggest. The author of the shark protection bill is California State Assembly Member Paul Fong, D-Cupertino, one of only a handful of Chinese-American lawmakers in the state legislature. He’s called the killing of sharks for their fins “a horrific scene.” Humane advocate Judy Ki also proudly claims an Asian lineage, but she offers a similar message: “Asian-Pacific Americans that want to enjoy premium quality seafood have many sustainable alternatives to shark fin. Those who are profiting from the slaughter of sharks solely for their fins are misusing race and culture to defend the industry.” A cohort of Asian chefs has also joined the campaign, along with a raft of scientists, animal welfare advocates, environmentalists, and commercial and recreational fishermen aware of the terrible animal welfare and ocean health implications of shark finning.

There are also similar shark-protection bills in Oregon and Washington state. The Washington legislation is sponsored by State Senate Majority Assistant Whip Kevin Ranker, D-San Juan Island, and has passed the Natural Resources & Marine Waters Committee that he chairs. If these bills are passed, it will be a major advance for the global campaign to protect tens of millions of sharks from the cruel deaths they now endure. Among other Pacific Rim states and territories, Hawaii and the Northern Marianas have already adopted similar prohibitions, and a similar bill awaits the Guam governor’s signature. And President Obama, who grew up in the Pacific Rim, signed legislation in January to ban landing sharks without their fins attached.

Culture is never a compelling defense for cruelty, especially when the cruelty is so dispensable and where alternatives abound. Animal protection is not the domain of any culture or community, but rather, it is a universal value. Good people of every background honor the notions of mercy and decency to other creatures. Stopping the killing of sharks for fins won’t diminish the proud culture of China or any other Asian nation. It will enhance it, since the presence of cruelty erodes the fabric of any civil society and mars the history books for any people who’ve ever elected to tolerate the vile mistreatment of helpless creatures.

Photo credit: JPhilipson

Voting with Our Food Choices

In September, the House Energy and Commerce Committee conducted a hearing on this summer’s massive egg recall, and witnesses included the owners of the factory farms that spawned the salmonella crisis and a couple of the downstream victims – consumers who ate foods containing eggs contaminated with salmonella and nearly died. The testimony of some of the victims was chilling, and it even prompted one congressman, Rep. Michael Burgess, R-Texas, to declare he’s now switching to cage-free eggs.

He’s got the right instinct. The central problem is not that there were a couple of reckless factory farm operators, though it’s certainly true that Jack DeCoster, owner of one of the two farms linked to the salmonella outbreak, has had a history of cutting corners at his egg farms across the country. It’s really a systemic problem – with the industry as a whole adopting battery cage confinement systems that victimize every creature confined in these cages and create an overcrowded, unhealthy environment that is high-risk for the spread of pathogens like salmonella.

We don’t just need to wash eggs better, or only make sure rodents haven’t colonized these places or that dead birds are removed from cages. We need to get rid of the cages and give animals more space. By giving them more space, we are better to the animals and reduce excessively high stocking densities that are among the root causes of the food safety problems, too.

And the evidence linking cages to unsanitary and inhumane conditions is hardly new. In fact, The HSUS’s investigation of Iowa egg factories earlier this year found nearly identical conditions to those found during the FDA’s inspection of the companies responsible for the current recall.

Our diet matters. We vote for or against cruelty, and for or against food safety, with our own food choices every day. That’s why I was also struck by the comments of former President Bill Clinton, who has adopted a nearly vegan diet. He told Wolf Blitzer of CNN that he’s now eating a plant-based diet, that he’s lost 24 pounds since he started it, and that’s he’s studied the issue very carefully, reading the works of Drs. Dean Ornish, Colin Campbell, and others. He’s said he feels like he’s now part of the experiment to prove that eating a plant-based diet is a way to improve the functioning of arteries and to deal with problems of cholesterol and fat.

When we are conscious eaters, we can help animals, protect the environment, enhance food safety, and protect our own health. We have an opportunity to live a healthy life and create the society we want through our actions, and one of the best opportunities is with our food choices every day.

Originally posted on A Humane Nation, Wayne Pacelle’s blog.

Photo Credit: Gabe Photos

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Thanks, but No Thanks

I grew up in a household of very loud, opinionated people. There were hardcore conservatives and those who my father called “bleeding heart liberals” among us. Everyone was at each others’ throat vying to make their point. I always remember gearing up for what I knew would be a test of endurance and persistence for who could make the final point; it was a matter of pride to hold your own in the face of the jeers of opposition. Thanksgiving was not warm and cozy, but it was lively, and I learned to thrive in – and actually appreciate – the chaos.

But when it was time to carve the bird, everyone came together and partook of the ritual. My father got out the electric carving knife and then each of us put in our requests for body parts. I wanted the white meat of the breast, one of my brothers wanted a leg, and my mother fished around for the wishbone. My other brother would scoop out the stuffing from the cavity as our mouths watered while the bird was disassembled and passed around. Next to the meat we would pile on mashed potatoes and gravy, brussel sprouts, green beans and cranberry sauce. Dessert was pumpkin pie and apple crumble with whipped cream. We all had a laugh that there was a lull between arguments while we enjoyed the feast, finally in a sort of trance over our shared love of the food. The tradition of sharing this meal brought all the disparate parts of the family together, and we celebrated despite – or maybe because of – our differences.

So imagine the pushback I got when I went vegetarian, and then vegan. It wasn’t pretty. It was like I had betrayed the family on what was the foundation of our unity (remember, we didn’t have a ton of common ground as it was): “What do you mean you don’t want to eat turkey?! People have been dining on birds since the beginning of time!” Well, that wasn’t altogether true. I said, “The first settlers apparently dined on bean soup with the native Americans. But besides that, I watched some pretty awful video of how turkeys –  who are really gentle and familial animals – are treated egregiously as they are processed and slaughtered for our big day. Their toes and part of their beaks are cut off without anesthesia; they are smashed together in extremely close and dirty quarters; they are given huge amounts of antibiotics (as are all factory-farmed animals); they are fed rejected meat products, sawdust, and leather tannery by-products; and they are all too often dunked in scalding water and dismembered while still alive and conscious.”

I looked at my parents and said, “Look, you raised me to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ You raised me to be a nice person, a person who does not do unkind things. You raised me to not hurt animals. You raised me to be thoughtful and to question things if they don’t feel right to me. It’s become impossible to avoid the conclusion that eating turkey doesn’t jive with those very basic and wise principles. I don’t need meat to survive and it’s just too cruel and ugly to feast on without feeling I’ve betrayed the values you’ve tried to instill in me.”

Accusations of self-righteousness flew around the house. Jabs and making fun were the talk for a few years. But I was adept at handling criticism and opposition; I held my own (without imposing my will on anyone else). When we moved Thanksgiving to my house in California things began to quietly settle down. I served sliced Tofurky (far surpassed this year by Gardein, found in Whole Foods’ deli section) and mashed potatoes made with Earth Balance instead of butter, and soy milk instead of dairy milk. The stuffing was made of bread crumbs and vegetable stock. The brussel sprouts, beans and cranberry sauce were the same. The pumpkin pie and apple crumble were made from recipes by Tal Ronnen and topped with vegan whipped cream. And the truth is that it all looked the same, but felt better.

And everyone loved the food; no one missed the traditional bird. The conversation was still chaotic and loud and lively. We disagreed on what we always disagreed on. But we got the foundational stuff – the food – right. We all shared the common desire to do a good thing and be a little thoughtful. As a family, we sacrificed a teeny tiny bit of tradition in favor of applying our shared values to what we eat, at least for that one meal a year. For that I am truly grateful!

Originally posted at HuffingtonPost.com.

Animal Camp: Lessons in Love and Hope From Rescued Farm Animals

Picking up where she left off in her first acclaimed book, “Where the Blind Horse Sings,” Kathy Stevens inspires us in “Animal Camp: Lessons in Love and Hope From Rescued Farm Animals” with life-altering lessons shared by the animals in her charge and a plea to see them for who, not what, they are. The following excerpt is from a chapter titled, “If We Can Get Them Out,” which describes the dramatic rescue and near-miraculous recovery of an old stallion named Noah.

“Come on, big boy,” I say as I slide green halter over red head. “We’re going for a walk! Can you believe it?”

I take the end of the lead rope and move backward toward the door so that the rope’s six-foot length extends between us. I figure it’s better for Noah to navigate his own turn. He, not I, knows which joints, which hooves hurt and how best to place them to minimize the pain.

At the open stall door, Noah stretches his head out, turning left and looking down the long aisle; turning right as Millie the potbelly pig trots past in her relentless search for food. I do not rush this process. Let each animal heal in his own way, on his own terms, at his own pace. That’s the Catskill Animal Sanctuary way. While Noah’s reluctance to leave could be fear-based — his entire world prior to coming here was a dark, windowless, ramshackle barn — I strongly suspect this behavior is all about a reluctance to leave his hay. Like many chronically starved animals, Noah is obsessed with food. Perhaps he needs a few moments to get comfortable with the idea of leaving it.

It’s been three or four minutes of standing, looking, but here he comes toward me now. I want him to see the encouragement in my face, and I want to be able to watch how he’s moving. So I walk backward, facing him. Noah moves cautiously, and in slow motion. He steps tentatively with his front feet; I notice his back legs drop dramatically at the fetlock join — he has the equine equivalent of extremely weak ankles. Noah walks about thirty feet. Then he stops, looks at me, turns back and looks at his stall.

“Okay, babe, enough for today? Thanks for telling me,” I praise my friend. We circle as widely as we can, taking more small, cautious steps back to the comfort of his stall. Within seconds, Noah’s head is buried deeply in his hay.

Ten days later, Noah is walking the full length of our 120-foot barn. There’ve been two scares: once his left front leg buckled and he pitched forward; once his back end gave out and he crashed to the ground. But if these moments fazed him, he didn’t let on. Both times he got up unassisted, literally and figuratively shook himself off, and continued as if he understood that an occasional slip was part of the recovery.

Today, Norma Jean the turkey is all feathered bliss as she naps in the aisle. Noah lowers his head in a gentle greeting that Norma Jean knows she needn’t fear. So, too, with Hannah the sheep, marching deliberately through the hay room as we walk past. She stops, lifts her head to Noah, and sheep and horse stand nose to nose for a moment. When she moves on, we do, too.

Noah seems to have gotten his sea legs — his steps are much more confident than they were ten days ago, though they’re still a little cautious. He apparently knows that one could give out at any time. Noah delights us as he moves from one curiosity to the next. Sometimes it’s a broom or a wheelbarrow filled with shavings, but far more often it’s a living thing — a chicken or a turkey, a sheep or a pig.

Hazel the adolescent piglet trots up and lifts her pink snout in greeting. Many horses despise pigs: not this one. Noah lowers his head, and as thousand-pound horse and fifty-pound pig greet each other, all soft breath and innocence, time stops. All is right in this world.

The return trip to Noah’s stall is uneventful, except for the face that the animal we weren’t sure would live is pulling me quickly down the aisle. I know why, of course. We turn into his stall, and in an instant, his red head is eyeball-deep in the green hay.

“Animal Camp” has just been released and is available wherever books are sold. It is the featured book in VegNews Book Club for the month of October.