As most of you know, my family does not eat meat; we are, for the most part, Lacto-ovo-vegetarians and have been before our children were born. Yes, occasionally, we consume fish and wear leather shoes. So we are a hodge-podge of mixed convictions or sorts, but we do not eat meat and poultry (except I eat turkey on Thanksgiving when I am back home in California to keep my brother Zane from carrying on.) Anyway, that mouthful explanation of our being sort of vegetarian (mindful of our lifestyle and eating habits) is to say this…
For many years, we have leased farmland to a farmer. Today, he called to say that due to the increase of wild animals (The number of wild boars in France is estimated at more than one million. Once rare in the French countryside, the wild boar is now considered a nuisance to be actively hunted.) roaming into the surrounding area, destroying and consuming crops. The city Mayor has asked the farm landowners in the area to have permission to hunt the wild animals to reduce their population. Our parcel of land is in the middle of other farm landowners who have agreed to let the hunting take place. The dilemma is either we agree to this proposal to have our land hunted by certified hunters to control the overpopulation of wild animals or disagree with the hunting of animals on our property.
I asked if electric wire could be used instead.
How far do we go with our convictions?
When do we draw a line and say no or yes?
Do our voices have importance on issues?
Would it make a difference if our land was hunted or not?
Are they killing animals because they are a nuisance?
I come from a family of farmers. I know what farming is and what the rules, regulations, cost, and toil it is to farmland. Hard work is the backbone of agriculture, and luck is the annoying part that is out of the farmer's control. I will leave it at that.
At the moment, there have been several massive protests by French farmers, and they will continue. French farmers band together and know how to get their message heard. Click here to read more. And here.
I know their struggle.
My father used to repeat a known expression:
The best deterrent for wild animals.
So what should we do?
This reminds me of a post I wrote years ago:
LESSONS ABOUT LIFE WHILE IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
When my children were little, we had an organic vegetable garden. We had tomatoes until December, green beans that made Jack-in-the-Bean-Stalk look like any Tom, Dick, or Harry-type ordinary guy, and spinach that made Popeye green with envy. Our garden was the talk of the neighborhood. It was magical except for the cute little voracious snails.
Our neighbor to the right of our home asked the neighbor to the left, "How does that American potato head produce such a beautiful vegetable garden?"
The neighbor to the left said, "I heard she doesn't use pesticides."
The neighbor across the street threw in, "I heard she uses fresh cow pies?"
Mr. Porte, my elderly neighbor and vegetable gardener-mentor, swelled with pride at his student. I loved that our organic vegetable garden gave him an extra sparkle in his eye.
Mr. Porte gave me wise gardening tips: He told me to put a piece of copper wire in the base of my tomato plants to prevent the tomatoes from having a grayish, brown bottom, to water the garden only three times a week, and to pick the snails off.
Bugs give me the creeps. So gardening was always me enduring with creeps.
Luckily, I had little helpers. I told Chelsea (six then) and Sacha (four) to pick off the snails and put them in a bucket.
They did.
It dawned on Sacha that this was not a happy little game, that these snails were doomed, and that his Mother had failed him. With tears in his lollipop eyes, he asked me, "Mommy, what are you gonna do with these escargots (snails)?"
There comes a point in every child's life when they realize that their Mother is not perfect… unfortunately for me, it happened when Sacha was four.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted to lie through my teeth. I wanted to make up a story. I wanted to say something to reassure him. In my long silence, with a look of extreme guilt, and all the while biting my lip, he started to cry. "YOU are gonna KILL 'em!"
I thought to myself, "Great, I have psychologically damaged my child. He is going to have nightmares, he is going to hate me forever, what can I say, what can I do? Why didn't I use bug spray?" I am dramatic, or as Yann says, I "react and not act." I often reply, "I think out loud."
Just then, to the rescue, Chelsea stood up. She wiped her sweet little brow, looked at me like I was the child, shook her head, and said,
"Sacha, either they eat, or we eat!"
Sacha looked at her, bent don't, and continued picking the snails off the tomato plants.
Children can handle truth better than we think.
_______
I do not want to agree to the controlled hunting of wild animals on our property, but I put snails in a bucket and sent them far away.
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