Eight years ago I moved to the country because I believed that was the best way I could save my little corner of the world. I believed the way we ate determined the way the world was used, and when I saw the way we ate I became very, very scared. I believed Wendell Berry when he said that eating is farming by proxy, and I saw our access to land as a privilege and a responsibility. And I shouldn't forget that I moved to the country because I knew nothing about farming. If I had, I would've reasoned my way out of it.
Eight years and three children later, we are still here, but I forgot something. I forgot that my individual choice matters.
I thought that because I lived on a farm that raised animals humanely, I was doing my part for animals everywhere. That the eggs we sold from what are arguably the happiest chickens on the planet somehow justified the factory-farmed eggs I ate on my breakfast sandwich at Panera. That the fact that I could look my chicken in the eye before I killed it as quickly and painlessly as possible somehow justified the chicken nuggets my children were consuming from what are arguably the unhappiest chickens on the planet.
What kind of logic is that? What kind of forgetting is that?
We all know how horrific factory farming is. If you don't know, you aren't paying attention. There is no argument under the sun to justify factory farms, and their presence is an affront to land, water, air, humans, and animals alike. Your knowledge of this fact does nothing to stop the decimation of the environment, the senseless torture of millions of animals, or the total extinction of small farms like ours.
Your knowledge does nothing. Your action does everything.
When you stop buying it, they will stop farming it.
I've got three little kids who like chicken nuggets and American cheese. This ain't gonna be easy. But I'm going to try, because I'm tired of forgetting.
