On the origin of bacon

As parents, we know the question will inevitably arise. There’s no way to avoid it. In today’s world, we can no longer just sluff it off or leave it to the public school system to explain. We have to be brutally honest. 

So when your little one asks, “Where does bacon come from?” we must have an answer. 

You might get weak-kneed at this point, and be tempted to make the truth a little more saleable. You may want to conjure up some magical story about the meat fairy, but it won’t do any good. They’ll Google it or ask Alexa, and then the gory truth will spill out, like the entrails of a... okay, you get the point.  

Probably a good idea to be gentle in your explanation. Try to avoid slaughterhouse terms like the “severing of the carotid artery.” You know, stuff that might accidentally slip off the tongue. 

But tell it like it is: They kill the pig. Or even better: Take them to an actual farm. And no, you don’t have to kill the animal in front of them. Maybe introduce them to a rather ugly pig, but for goodness sake, don’t give the pig a name! Then, ever so gently, talk to them about the harsh lessons of life. 

My daughter, who is a lover of animals, went through a period where she hesitated to eat meat. She was a devout vegetarian for two full days, and then it was over. We may have had a hand in this, as we refused to start cooking solely vegetarian, but my daughter also understood that she would have to give up her favourite meal: T-bone steak (otherwise known as dead cow). 

A couple summers ago, my daughter even started to fish. The first time I caught one, she was in tears. Now she revels in every catch, so long as she doesn’t have to watch me whack them with the pliers (hey, it works). 

“I love fishing and I love watching you fillet them,” she said to me last July as I worked my knife through the insides of a slimy northern pike. She particularly enjoyed examining their stomach contents. 

This is a girl who still live-releases insects when she finds them in her bedroom. I’m okay with that. But never eating meat? I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it. 

Maybe it’s because I was raised on a farm and have come to understand the circle of life from an early age. Just like those who were raised into families who hunt, you gain an understanding of how the animal kingdom works. 

When I read about a father who became vegetarian because his five-year-old grew saddened when he learned about the origins of bacon, I also grew saddened. In a way, the connection to the land has been lost. I wondered if they had ever exposed their child to a nature documentary, where lions tear apart a live wildebeest. Or is that too real? We’d rather show them movies where predators and prey live in peace; where lions feed on grass and quinoa salads. 

This is not to take away from vegetarians’ legitimate concerns with eating meat. It’s true that aspects of our meat production system are inhumane, and animals should be treated ethically. There’s also a good argument to be made that the environmental impact of eating meat is greater than eating vegetarian alternatives. Our consumption levels are straining the planet. 

These causes are important, and I could even give up meat a few days of the week to support them.  

But I won’t become a vegetarian because of a teary five-year-old.