I spoke to some youths today.

I was shadowing at a farm incubator. An animal ethics class from the college had come to do a tour, and it became clear about 10 minutes in that they didn’t want to talk about composting, no-till, or cover crops.

They wanted to talk about death.

To be clear, this is not a productive farm.

It’s a market garden/commons. It’s a place where city folks learn how to build raised beds.

So when a freshman philosophy student raised her hand and asked how much pigs suffer when they’re killed, no one could answer but me.

“Most of the time they do, but not always.”

I was nervous. It was the first time I’d been in a position to share what I’d learned, in person, to a willing and attentive group.

They wanted to know every detail of husbandry, dispatch and butchery, so I shared.

They were keenly interested in the exact moment of death-

How does it look?

How does it sound?

What was it like, the first time I saw it happen?

And, truthfully, I was scared at first, but it really is no big deal.

At the urging of the professor, the conversation quickly turned metaphysical.

“What would you say,” he asked, “to the idea that it is wrong for animals to die for us, even if they live a happy life and die a painless death?”