1885:
In the nineteenth century, animal-killing
wasn’t so commonly done behind closed doors, but often out in the open, in the
yards of farms. But wherever it was done, for many small-time farmers it wasn’t
easy. In this passage from Jude The Obscure by Thomas Hardy, the death
of an animal at the hands of the human is no different then from today.
The Killing of the Pig.
It was thick snow, and the pig-killer
was over-due. It seemed he was not coming, and the pig had to be killed that
day since Jude and Arabella had run out of barleymeal mixture the day before.
The pig had been starving since then. Jude says to his wife Arabella, “What -
he has been starving?”
Her reply: “Yes. We always do
it the last day or two, to save bother with the innerds. What ignorance, not to
know that!”
“That accounts for his crying
so. Poor creature!”
“You must do the sticking -
there’s no help for it. It must be done”.
He went out to the sty, and
placed the stool in front, with the knives and ropes at hand. Jude, rope in
hand, got into the sty, and noosed the affrighted animal, who, beginning with a
squeak of surprise, rose to repeated cries of rage. While Jude held him, Arabella
bound him down, looping the cord over his legs to keep him from struggling. The
animal’s note changed its quality. It was not now rage, but the cry of despair;
long drawn, slow and hopeless. “Upon my soul I would sooner have gone without
the pig than have had this to do!” said Jude. “A creature I have fed with my
own hands”.
“Don’t be such a
tender-hearted fool! There’s the sticking-knife - the one with the point. Now
whatever you do, don’t stick un too deep”.
“I’ll stick him effectually,
so as to make short work of it. That’s the chief thing”.
“You must not!” she cried.
“The meat must be well bled, and to do that he must die slow. We shall lose a
shilling a score if the meat is red and bloody! Just touch the vein, that’s
all. I was brought up to it, and I know. Every good butcher keeps un bleeding
long. He ought to be eight or ten minutes dying, at least”.
“He shall not be half a
minute if I can help it, however the meat may look,” said Jude determinedly.
Scraping the bristles from
the pig’s upturned throat, as he had seen the butchers do, he slit the fat;
then plunged in the knife with all his might.“ ‘Od damn it all!” she cried,
“That ever I should say it! You’ve over-stuck un! And I telling you all the
time”
“Do be quiet, Arabella, and
have a little pity on the creature.” However unworkmanlike the deed, it had
been mercifully done. The blood flowed out in a torrent instead of in the
trickling stream she had desired. The dying animal’s cry assumed its third and
final tone, the shriek of agony; his glazing eyes riveting themselves on
Arabella with the eloquently keen reproach of a creature recognizing at last
the treachery of those who seemed his only friends. “Make un stop that!” said
Arabella. “Such a noise will bring somebody or other up here, and I don’t want
people to know we are doing it ourselves”. Picking up the knife from the ground
whereupon Jude had flung it, she slipped it into the gash, and slit the
windpipe. The pig was instantly silent, his dying breath coming through the
hole. “That’s better,” she said.
“It is a hateful business!”
said he.
“Pigs must be killed.”
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