Every day I pass scenes like these. I used to smile foolishly at the sight, thinking an image like this was beautiful and that it was the essence of what country life represented.
Now I can scarcely bear to look at these gentle, innocent beings because I now realise that this bucolic scene masks a sinister reality. Each of these nonhuman individuals has been brought into this world as a commodity; they are viewed as resources to indulge a species that is hell bent on destruction; the destruction annually of uncounted billions of other sentient beings and the destruction of the planet we all share.
Their terrifying deaths are already planned, the time scales already scheduled when their mothers were forcibly impregnated. These are, in fact, the walking dead.
Their sweet beauty will end very soon in the gore and stench of a slaughterhouse, their screams and whimpers unheard behind closed doors, so that their predators will not be inconvenienced by the uncomfortable reality of their suffering. Their lives, that they value every bit as much as I value my own, torn from them on behalf of those of us who refuse to confront why we allow our taste buds to dictate our morals.
We can live and live well without causing harm. We have choices. The only way to reject this bloodbath is to be vegan – why wait another moment?
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