Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Slaughterhouse Blues

I used to work at a slaughterhouse. It was family run one, and I'd been given a job to help process the animals.

About two years ago, not long after I had begun working there, there was a flood. The slaughter house was by a creek, so the place got swamped occasionally.

I was part of a small group checking to make sure that we had gotten all the animals to safety. We had most of them, but we noticed that we were missing a pregnant sow.

We still don't know exactly how she got out since the gate had a locked and chained, and there was no other way for a pig to get out. The place was filled with water so we really couldn't search for her that well.

A week passed, and the water had finally receded enough for us to go back into the barn, and properly search for her. We found her dead, lying on her side in the two inches of water still in the barn.

She was covered in flies, mud, maggots, and generally rotting and decaying. But the worst part was that somehow, we think, we hope, some coyotes came in and ripped her open. She was cut from her chin to her tail. However, the fact that there were several dead pig fetuses strewn around, and a general lack of bit marks, still makes me worry otherwise.

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