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Pigs raised on crowded factory farms, tortured into insanity, have been known to eat anything that falls into the pigpen, including the occasional child whose parents are foolish enough to let their kid wander into such a place unsupervised.
Humans seemed to me a rather bullying species, and I was on the side of the underdog.
Much of Howard’s writing examined the forces disassembling American places—how we are “using the world’s greatest wealth,” as he put it, “to create ugliness.” We longed for woods and wetlands, fields and farms, and for neighbors who knew each other as well as the land and its history.
this was the sort of place where the only reason you’d lock your car was if you didn’t want people leaving zucchini in the backseat while you were at church.
To link correlations as cause and effect (even incorrectly, as is the case with much of medicine) is considered a very sophisticated intellectual ability—one that many scientists would prefer to
claim animals don’t possess. But those of us who pay attention to animals know better.
A vegetarian pig’s manure has a nice earthy smell to it, as well as a pleasant shape and texture, rather like a small loaf of braided bread. But add meat to the diet, and it stinks, gets all sticky, and falls through the tines of the pitchfork. It also ruins the compost pile. Do you add dog droppings to the tomato patch in the summer? Of course not. But a vegetarian pig’s manure is garden gold.
Fat is abundance. Fat is fecundity. Fat is the fullness of life.
