Continued from The Vegan Files #1…
Many years went by before I first heard the word Vegan. I heard the word for the first time when I met one. He was an enigma, though also a closet level 5 douchebag. Someone who actually managed to survive on no animal products at all! I couln’t believe it! I thought about it for a while and decided that he must live on a diet of exclusively salad greens, olive oil, orange juice and tofu. That was too crazy for me, no siree, I could never do such a thing and never would!
At that time I had a beautiful, though adorably naive, vision in my mind of a farm. In my vision, there was a huge pasture that stretched farther than the eye could see, with chickens nesting happily wherever their hearts desired. The woul peck around for food, drink water from the stream, take naps underneath the big apple tree, and lay their eggs whevever they were ready. Then, the friendly farmer, naturally wearing his trusty overalls, would come out and collect the unnecessary eggs from the ladies. Then he would pack them up to be sent to market where people like me would buy them with pride.
This fairytale was marred one day, when I was visiting my Vegan friend’s house and saw a copy of the Vancouver Humane Society’s monthly newsletter sitting on his kitchen table. Since he turned out to be a level 5 douche bag, I tended to spend most of my time at his place alone, reading magazines. This allowed my a long opportunity to read their cover story on battery cages. I had never heard the term, nor imagined the concept.
A battery cage is approximately 33 inches by 25.5 inches and holds nine to twelve live, egg laying hens. These women are imprisoned in these cages their entire lives, and you’re dreaming if you think they get to leave to go outside, eat their meals, or receive veterinary care! A hen’s natural lifespan is 6 years, while these imprisioned egg laying hens live a short, tortured 9 months. These chickens suffer from stress so severe that they are reduced to self mutilation, feather pecking, and even caniblism. One hen lives her entire live in the same amount of space as a regular sheet of school/note paper.
This image haunted me, but fortunately for me, all my eggs came from Idylic McHappyville farms, so I had nothing I could do better to improve the lives of these poor tortured souls. Thus, several more years passed with me not thinking twice about the egg and dairy that I regularly consumed. Nonetheless, the good that did come from my friendship with Douchie McLooser was that I was able to see that not only was a Vegan diet physically possible, but that he ate wicked food at all the same restaurants I regularly went to, he just got to be more creative.