A Word About the Turkey Incident

Good morning, weary travelers. In a strange turn of events, I am up before 9am. In an even stranger turn of events, I feel like blogging something. So let's see if we can do this and still respect ourselves, shall we?

We wake up today in a new world: a world in which Sarah Palin — who has already given us all so much — has conducted an interview in front of an open-air turkey abattoir.

Watch the video here.

We didn't ask for this, we didn't even know we wanted it. Nevertheless, the all-too-generous hockey mom has shown us once again what true artistry really means. To borrow a phrase from my friend David Cope: "I feel it, too."

The press cycle is revving up this morning, and by the end of the day we will have lost our appetites and wonder if it was all worth it. But before the uproar reaches it's full cacophony, I would like to state for the record that I think it's important that the turkey farm in question, 1) continued with it's work and didn't sanitize what they were doing because of a poor location choice by the television crew, and 2) that they have an open-air abattoir.

I've been a vegetarian for about 5 years now, but I've never really been a full one. I eat fish and shellfish, and last year for the first time since my dietary shift, I cooked and ate a Thanksgiving turkey. This was not a decision taken lightly. Over the last year, my interests have shifted more towards issues of sustainability instead of strict vegetarianism. Our large industrial farms are purveyors of a myriad of evils, not the least of which is a nightmare life cycle for the animals that produce the meat we purchase. However, there are a lot of smaller farms that produce meat and produce within a closed sustainable, ecological cycle, often promoting the redevelopment of languishing species in the process.

Polyface Farm, near Staunton, VA, which was covered in great detail in Michael Polan's wonderful book, The Omnivore's Dilemma, is a terrific example of a meat-producing farm that is economically and environmentally sound. Good Shepherd Ranch in Kansas is an example of a farm that raises Heritage breed turkeys — once critically endangered breeds of poultry — in a healthy, sustainable and humane way. After reading about the work the ranch was doing, I decided to order a turkey from them last year and have my first taste of meat in a very long time. In the interest of purchasing somewhat locally this year, I tracked down the Good Grass Farm in New York state, which also raises heritage turkeys.

The overall message I would like to convey, and Sarah Palin has unwittingly made this abundantly clear, is that it is absolutely necessary that we understand how our food gets to our table and what went into it's production. Whether you're a vegetarian, avowed carnivore or simply someone who wants to make sure their family is eating wholesome foods, we can no longer pretend that eating dinner is as simple driving to the store and picking up a plastic-wrapped pound of ground sirloin. Disease, growing world hunger, energy prices, climate change — our dinner tables are directly connected with these things and our choices of what to place on them will set the course for whether we live in a healthier world or a deadlier one. In my opinion, small, sustainable, independently owned farms — like the one we see in full operation behind Sarah Palin's hairdo — are a key to a more positive future for the entire planet.

So as we get caught up in the train wreck of this story, I hope that the farm itself and it's workers are not vilified for doing their jobs. And I hope the outcome of this story is not that we eat less turkey on Thanksgiving, but that we get it from the right places. Next year, do a little research. You might be surprised to find there's a turkey farmer not too far from you who can tell you what kind of bird you're getting, how old it was and what it ate before arriving to your table. And trust me, you will taste the difference.

As for Governor Palin, all I can say is, thank you. I will never forget your big smile and big hair in front of that streaming trough of blood. Christmas done come early on my farm.