Animals as Commodities: Kentucky Redefines “Animals,” “Pain,” and “Welfare”

I’m headed for the state capital tomorrow to hear what the Kentucky Livestock Care Standards Commission is recommending for legislation. If you live in Kentucky, I urge you to join me.

Members of the Commission were appointed by the governor and include a pork farmer, a bovine farmer, a judge, a citizen concerned about food safety, an associate dean from UK’s Ag College, a grocer, an autoworker who represents sheep and wool producers, a private investor, several veterinarians, and the pièce de résistance—a farm manager from Cal-Maine Foods, the “largest shell egg producer” in the U.S.

This Commission garnered a little publicity last year when the Humane Society of the U.S. accused it of meeting privately instead of publicly (as it’s supposed to). Since then, the Commission has been known to tweak its recommendations via e-mail rather than in public meetings.

Why so much secrecy? Because a few contentious issues are at stake—such as tail-docking and beak-cutting sans anaesthesia or painkillers and confining animals in crates that are too small for the animals to move in. Apparently, the Commission talked at length during the last meeting about whether to include the words pain and welfare in the standards.

According to Kentucky’s State Veterinarian, Robert Stout, the animals at the center of this hubbub are “commodities,” not “companions,” and he hasn’t seen the science yet that proves commodities feel pain. With “advocates” like Stout, Kentucky animals don’t need any more enemies.

However, I believe the Commission needs a language expert on board to help them suss out obfuscations and stick to clear definitions of terms. I also believe some of the Commission members need to retrieve their consciences and try not to view everything through the lens of profitability (read: greed).

For those of you who live in Kentucky, I want to share a conversation I had recently with a Bluegrass veterinarian. She lamented how many out-of-staters regard Kentuckians as ignorant and backward—even out-of-state vets characterize their Kentucky counterparts this way. I had to bite my tongue. You see, it’s people like Robert Stout who aren’t helping your image. So do Kentucky a favor and prove to the rest of the nation that you’re thoughtful and compassionate. Attend the meeting tomorrow to remind the Commission members that they’re accountable for their decisions. Remind them to see beyond the Almighty Dollar.

The 1:00 meeting is scheduled for tomorrow, July 17, at:
Office of the State Veterinarian
100 Fair Oaks Lane, Suite 252
Frankfort, KY 40601

[Photographer unknown.]

A Barnyard Lady Killer Bids Farewell

He arrived at Catskill Animal Sanctuary with 13 ewes and lambs and he was bad to the bone. There wasn’t a stall that could pen him in, not a creature who had authority over him. The humans called him Rambo, for he was all horn and rage—until…at last…he wasn’t. He transformed from wild to wise and became the self-proclaimed guardian of all the barnyard animals. He herded them, rescued them, guided them, and comforted them. They looked up to the Jacob ram and, if they were female, had a crush on him.

Yes, Rambo attracted the fairer sex of many species, especially the wingèd variety. Barbie, the rescued broiler hen, was one of his favorites. In Animal Camp, CAS director Kathy Stevens describes seeing Rambo approach Barbie and hoof the ground, the signal he used with humans to get a massage out of them. But Barbie didn’t understand the signal, so Rambo showed her what he meant: Ever so gently, he massaged her body with the tip of his horn. A few days later, Rambo could be seen relaxing in the barn with a busy Barbie at his side, pulling hay from his coat. As their relationship intensified, so did the jealousy of Hannah the sheep.

Hannah fancied herself the rightful mate of Rambo, in a Fatal Attraction kind of way, and was never far from the object of her affections. In fact, she fretted if he wasn’t in her sightlines. As Stevens entered the barn one day, she saw Rambo but no Hannah. This was odd and prompted her to ask a CAS employee about Hannah’s absence.

“She’s in time out.”

“What happened?” asked Stevens.

“She head-butted Barbie halfway across the aisle.” Hell hath no fury…

As Rambo aged, arthritis gripped his body and slowed him down, but it didn’t impair his sense of responsibility to his flock. A couple of months ago when the cows escaped, he couldn’t round them up himself so he did the next best thing: He hobbled to the humans and alerted them to the situation. Stevens knew Rambo would soon face his final transformation and she tried to steel herself for it.

She was right. Last Saturday Rambo transformed from earthbound to spirit while surrounded by everyone who loved him, both human and nonhuman. In a fitting portent, just the day before, the sanctuary had welcomed 14 sheep rescued from neglect—one of them a Jacob ram. While a new era begins for the flock, it seems Rambo’s legacy is sure to continue.

A Gift of Time

It’s Leap Day. Make the most of it.

[Pic by Davies up North.]

Holding Gloom and Doom at Bay

“Hey, Poky,” greeted my husband the other morning as he inched his way into our living room. I’m not sure why he called me Poky. A reference to Poky Little Puppy perhaps?

“That’s just what I’m reading about!” I said a little too enthusiastically, The Omnivore’s Dilemma open in my lap. “The Poky Feedlot is…”

He didn’t let me finish because he assumed the word feedlot led only to tragic details. “Maybe it’s time for you to read something cheerier.”

What? Oh, well, I suppose feedlots are not the best topic to start the day with. And I suppose bringing up 1950s American civil rights issues the night before as we got into bed was also a poor timing choice. (I’d started reading Nikki Finney’s Head Off & Split.)

My husband continued his argument though he’d already made his point. I’d started a similar debate in my head long before that morning. Much of what I read upsets me, then upsets him whenever I share what I’ve learned. If I don’t share it, then my somber mood says what I haven’t vocalized. To reinstate calm in our house, I needed to rethink my reading list.

So I’m wiping the slate clean. I’m putting aside the remaining books of my “Current Reading Lineup” and starting over. I’ll get to those back-burner books one day (especially Pollan’s work, which I highly recommend). For now, I’ll avoid the library and pull books from my own inventory.

My first choice? Three Bags Full: A Sheep Detective Story by Leonie Swann. Yes, you read that right. I’m still reading about animals. But (and it’s a BIG BUT) the sheep are the protagonists of a fictional whodunit laced with humor and woolly-eyed insights about our culture. All the wooled ones know of the world they gleaned from the stories their shepherd-cum-murder-victim read to them. It’s a refreshingly inventive and fast-paced read. For those of you who have sheep, I would guess this is even funnier, and might prompt you to reconsider some of your flock’s behavior.

Until tomorrow, I’ll be in Ireland with Miss Maple (a very intelligent ewe), Mopple (who has an excellent memory, but an insatiable appetite), and Othello (the mysterious black ram, of course)—my first attempt to bolster cheer and optimism in my home.

[Art by Thomas Sidney Cooper.]

Herding (v.) Sheep and Herding (adj.) Sheep

A few words about SHEEP are in order today.

Herding (v.) Sheep
Last week we watched as sheep were tormented round a field, three at a time, in the Bluegrass Classic Stockdog Trial. The competition is one of the most prestigious in the nation and held right here in the Horse Capital of the World.

The weather was hot and muggy, which tripped up some of the herders. Even so, every dog deserved our admiration. The concentration and intelligence they exhibited while following the shrill whistle instructions of their owners was mesmerizing. Some had fairly easy sheep to herd across the field and through all the gates and tricks of the course; others were challenged by stubborn woolies who clearly just wanted to stand in one place and graze.

We don’t frequent dog shows or agility competitions, so being surrounded by one breed of canine was new to us. And odd—most of them were traditional black-and-white Border Collies. There was little variation in the dogscape. Even so, I couldn’t help but reminisce about our precious collie mix.

She was our first dog (i.e., we had no idea what we were doing), and because she was an emaciated rescue, no one knew for certain what her heritage was. She had no problem walking on lead, but she walked in circles—around and around us. It took her doltish guardians a while to realize she was a herding breed. Later, her DNA would kick in at the sight of any large appliance or hand-pulled item: She herded lawn mowers, vacuums, weed whackers, strollers, wagons, and anything we would drag home from the beach. She was clever enough to give those Border Collies a run for their money in the Stockdog Trials, but her humans fell a wee bit short in the training department.


Herding (adj.) Sheep
Sissy, the blind quarter horse, hit the animal press this week. And with her came news of sheep who herd horses.

Sissy needed new digs because the shelter she called home was closing. Enter Deer Haven Ranch, sanctuary to unwanted animals of varying disabilities. The hitch? Sissy came with a posse of guides and bodyguards: 5 sheep and 5 goats who artfully surround her and navigate her toward food, water, pastures, and away from every perceived danger. The herded are herders. (Too bad there’s no video of this.)

Taking in one more creature to feed and provide vet care for is one thing; taking in 11 creatures is quite another. Kudos to Deer Haven Ranch for accepting the challenge.

Warning: Every link I tried in the Sissy story turned out to be an advertisement. Maybe that’s what you’re used to, dear readers. However, I assure you there is NO advertising on Lull. The links I provide have been carefully chosen to either give you more information about a subject or to remind you of a related post on Lull. (And, to be perfectly transparent, the links to related posts are meant especially for Lull newbies as a way of explanation and a way to entice them deeper into Lull.)

[Photo of Sissy from Michelle Feldstein, co-owner of Deer Haven Ranch.]