Justin does his job

I have always believed we should know where our food comes from. I have raised and slaughtered chickens to provide a meal. Thursday I got to do something that I had been wanting years to do. I slaughtered a sheep. OK, I helped slaughter a sheep. He weighted maybe two hundred pounds, and had become a menace in the field. Few were sad to see him go. We had decided he was too dangerous to pass on to someone else. He was not breeding stock, though he was a magnificent animal. We don't usually name the lambs. Who wants to eat Wendy or Oliver? In this case, both he and his twin sister had names. They were bottle fed since birth and were more pets than livestock but when he began knocking people over and threatening to break bones, he became a liability. It took four of us to get him onto the truck for a ride a few miles to where he would meet his fate. It took three of us to get him off the truck and up to the spot where we would do the deed.
I was home before noon with very mixed feelings. Three of us had taken care of them as lambs and he still trusted us, but no one else. How many times have I told school kids that farm animals have to work for their living? Sheep give wool and meat and baby sheep. He couldn't breed. His best wool was last year's crop. That left meat. He did what he was born to do, and he did it well.