I have only been astride a horse once in my life, back when I was about 14. As cherished memories go, that experience is not one of them.
I found it uncomfortable and a bit like a first date with someone you fancy, I wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. And so I didn’t. And neither did my wary steed.
But, in so saying, I like horses very much. It soothes me to see horses in a meadow and I like when they see one and wander over to the fence go chat. I chat with them. I don’t necessarily whisper but do ask how their day is going.
So, in that I understand the absolute outrage of the Brits when they found their lasagna and other dishes contained a good quantity of gee-gee. That wasn’t right.
Fine for the French, puffed the residents of Blighty, but don’t be imposing dishes comprising Black Beauty on us. The French, as the English know, will eat anything questionable like snails and slugs and frogs, so why not horses?
We are pretty much like the English in that regard. Our relationship with the horse is different than it is with other animals. From the days of knights of old, the valiant horse has stood by us. We have a ‘relationship’ with horses, much as we do with dogs. We don’t eat dogs either. We’re emotionally selective in what we stuff in our greedy maws.
On Rarotonga one finds vast numbers of feral dogs. We were riding a little local bus and one of the tourist passengers asked the driver, a charming Maori named Dennis, why so many dogs. He explained that the Cook Islanders used to eat dog. And then when the missionaries arrived in the 1820s they put a stop to a practice that those men of God, mostly English, found disgraceful.
“Good thing they didn’t arrive when we were still indulging our earlier eating practices,” said Dennis, with a knowing wink. Seems their erstwhile nosh was something known in the South Pacific as ‘long pig’.
Anyway, the dogs were set free and they were left to roam untethered and unowned and seemingly perfectly happy, all of which seem quite agreeable in disposition.
And horses we regard in the same way. Horses are the aforementioned Black Beauty, and Trigger, and Silver, and Champion the Wonder Horse, Mr. Ed, of course, as well as Man-o-War, and all the horses that delivered our milk and veggies in olden times, and the sad horses we sent off into battle, with nearly as many dying on the Western Front in World War One as did men. Sad about them. I mean, sad about the men, too, but horses didn’t start the war or ask to be engaged in it.
And yes, I am selective in my biases, I know. But somehow horses are different. I’ll say I truly like cows and they make me feel peaceful, and a gamboling lamb is a sight to enchant, and pigs are smarter than a lot of politicians of recent years.
Yet I eat bits of all of the above. I might become vegetarian if I could make an exception for bacon. Yet pigs equal bacon.
Some cultures have no problem with prime rib of cheval. I do. It’s all about culture, however, rather than moral outrage.
I have to agree, Ian, bacon is the thing I would miss most if I returned to my vegetarian lifestyle. In fact, it is the only thing I would crave. I do find it puzzling, however, that we find it morally acceptable to eat some animals and not others. It breaks my heart when I see the living conditions of most animals before they are slaughtered! At least the horses probably had a good life, and because of that, they may have been a healthier, dietary alternative. The whole thing is a moral dilemma for me. I do know one thing for sure, i am having veggie burgers for supper. I never feel guilty eating vegetables.
Bacon indeed, Debra. Me too about that. And I have been known to say that if I had to kill the animals I consume I would turn vegetarian in a heartbeat.
It is weird to think that morally, we have no problem eating some animals but find it absolutely repugnant to even think about eating others. Meat is meat, yes? That being said, I have to say that I don’t actually eat much meat of any kind – and I also have to admit that when I do, I totally avoid thinking about the animal that my dinner used to be. As Debra notes above, it’s a moral dilemma.
It is a moral dilemma. I find it to be so as I indicated in my comment to Debra. But, I would hate to give meat up completely.
I have no problem eating horse. It’s wonderful for chili since the meat is so lean. As far as I’m concerned, if it’s on the shelf, it’s fair game.
This said, I’m also the type who, even knowing where my meat comes from, chooses to believe that meat grows in cling wrapped styrofoam containers. Everyone knows that.
I imagine horse is a bit like venison or moose, buth of which are pretty lean. But I too like my meat in wrapped styrofoam.
I’ve been off pig twice in my life, and twice I’ve been lured back to its porky, piggy, bacony goodness. I am morally, ethically, and spiritually a vegetarian ~ but my taste buds are pure carnivore, although I eat far less meat now than I used to. All that being said, the only time I’ve ever had an issue eating a meat was an ostrich burger. I couldn’t get the image of the animal itself out of my head and it was quite disturbing. Otherwise, I’m with Jazz: want to know what I’m eating; think it’s fair game if it’s on the shelf; and grows in cling wrap, instead of from cute little baby animals.
I may be like you deep in my heart. And actually sometimes I’m quite content with a salad or a cucumber sandwich, but my taste buds are like yours. Baby animals indeed. I love lambchops but I also think cute little lambs are adorable, so I am torn. And I absolutely refuse to eat veal.