This is a beautifully-written collection of meditations on the natural world, and how it inspires and enriches the human experience. The author seems to be both attuned to and fascinated by animals ranging from the mightiest denizens of the African plains to the most humble backyard insects. For those involved in humane work, it is a reminder that there is not just the suffering and injustice we see front-and-center in our newsfeeds and inboxes every day—but also astonishing beauty, wonder, and intelligence in the animal experience.
Any time I encounter an author whose appreciation of animals seems to be deeper and more complex than just simply thinking dogs are cute, I can’t help but wonder about their dietary choices. Especially when the author writes, as Deming does, a line like this:
Anyone who is not feeling sorrow in contemplating the plight of animals, and the hand of humans in furthering their plight, is not paying attention.
So I naturally found myself deeply disappointed when the author, like so many other professed animal lovers, can embrace the sentience and individuality of nearly every other creature, but has a huge black hole when it comes to those who end up on the dinner plate. After writing about a pig who she raised and then had killed for her flesh, the author writes:
So it is not only for the meat that I owe gratitude to the pig, but also for the web of connection to my neighbors.
The pig didn’t want gratitude. She wanted to live. The author made this abundantly clear when she described how the pig raged against her slaughter, as all healthy young animals do, bucking as the slaughterman rode her around the pen like around like a bronco before he could stab her throat with a knife. Isn’t there a better way to befriend your neighbors than taking a life? Isn’t there a better way to feed yourself when you have a choice?
Like many children, the author’s own daughter knows instinctively that all of this is wrong.
"I'm not eating it!" my daughter screamed in the fury of a five-year-old who knows an injustice when she sees it.
Elsewhere in the book, the author writes about visiting slaughter-bound pigs on an artisan Vermont teaching farm. She writes about how each male piglet is castrated without painkillers, as is the industry standard. She lamely seems to excuse this by saying it’s done “quickly.” Yet how many of us would accept anesthesia-free surgery on our own dogs and cats, even if done “quickly?” At the same farm, she speaks with the farmer about how kids are brought in to help slaughter chickens, at first nobody wants to take a life but by the end of the day most think it's “fun.” We really need to stop and ask ourselves: is this the world we want? The future we want? Or do we want to raise the next generation of innovators who find better ways of producing healthy and humane food?