I was reading Roy Hattersley’s thoughtful article in the Guardian in which he tried to balance his compassion for dumb animals, with his liking for red meat. His heart was bleeding for the future lamb chops he saw gambolling over the hillside as he enjoyed a day out in the Countryside. Letters subsequently appeared in the paper, many imploring him to have the courage of his convictions – and become vegetarian.
It all got me thinking – decisions have consequences – some are unexpected. Suppose a decree went out that, from the first of next month, it would be illegal to consume meat. You might argue that this would be a humane and compassionate piece of legislation. But think it
through by considering the impact on the UK Hills . The first change would be apparent to Mr. Hattersley next time he went for a Country walk – there’d be no lambs. The unpalatable fact is that the only reason these innocent creatures are playing in the Summer sunshine is because they will eventually be eaten. It’s the consumer who pays the bills. A lamb’s life may be short, but it’s idyllic if the ones I see racing about in the fields are anything to go by. And not only would there be no lambs in the fields and hills, there’d be no breeding ewes either and many of these live six or seven contented years with us.
‘What about the value of the wool?’ I hear you cry. Well, if you were say Linda McCartney and married to a multi-millionaire, you could afford to keep a flock just to sell the wool, and not for meat. However, as the payment for fleeces has hardly risen in the past ten years it means the ‘wool cheque’ barely covers the cost of shearing the flock (someone must be making money out of wool if you look at the price of jumpers in the shop – but it’s not the farmer). So, apart from a few lucky sheep kept in zoos, wildlife parks and millionaires’ estates and maybe a few Jacobs saved for their fleeces, the rest of the National flock would be killed.
We would all have clear consciences because no sheep were being slaughtered for meat – but they’d have had no life in the first place. If no one will eat mutton or lamb, who’s going to devote their lives to raising them? Farmers can’t afford to keep pets, so the hills would empty.
The economy of our higher hill lands is intimately tied to the smaller family farms. This is the ‘less favoured land’ where resident farmers receive higher grants than lowland farmers *3 . Although as vegetarians we would now be feeding on plant protein, the only crop which really survives on the upper hills is grass – and the only way to convert grass to a protein utilisable by humans, is to pass it through a ruminant. So, no crops on the high land and no sheep. Within a year or two it would revert to impenetrable scrubland as coarse weeds and brambles begin to take hold. Great for Conservation maybe, but no good for hill walking or cycling.
Some areas might be designated as ‘Parks’, but not many farmers fancy being part of a leisure industry, so most would leave. Farmhouses might be sold off as second homes for rich city dwellers, but the heart of the country community would be lost.
What about the intermediate land – the gentler uplands? Some farmers might survive here without the income from sheep – but only at a cost. Intensive sheds for egg production would probably spring up. Plus intensive cropping of potatoes, rape seed and corn and, field beans. No more hedges of course – who could afford to waste long autumn days cutting and laying hedges? The practical purpose of a hedge is to separate animals into different fields – and this comes with the added benefit of providing ‘Green Passageways’ for wild animals. But no commercial animals means no hedges. Think Kent countryside. I’m not sure I’d want to walk through this landscape. Still, if we could find a footpath, we wouldn’t have to worry about the beef suckler cows and bulls, they’d all be dead and gone leaving us free to room through fields of blackened bean haulms.
So that just leaves the flat Grade 1 valley land to consider. This would be heavily cropped with monocultures of corn, rape, barley, beans and potatoes. The land might be interspersed with intensive market gardens giving a nightmare landscape of flapping plastic tunnels and cloches. And we might find more intensive smallholders – but can anyone pretend to find such acres pleasing to the eye? Where would be our green and pleasant land?
There would of course still be intensive dairy farms consisting entirely of female animals as 99% of male calves would have to be culled at birth, rather than living in gangs in the fields for 20 months or so. Mind you, if we all went vegan, we wouldn’t have this problem, as there’d be no calves, male or female.
Which brings me to the final dilemma – is it better for us to slaughter beasts at the moment of birth, or give them a chance of life even if it has to be on our terms? This is the great imponderable. And since I’ve never managed to get a convincing answer from a vegetarian/vegan I decided to ask our oldest suckler cow instead. She’s called Countess and has lived twelve summers so far and is expecting her ninth calf who will stay with her through the coming summer. I conducted the interview as we stood in the long meadow grass, looking across at the Black Mountains. April sunshine glowed on her red-brown hide as she chewed over the events of the day with her sisters, daughters and cousins.
My question was as follows ‘Countess, given the chance, would you rather have had the chance to live twelve summers or not?’ She answered, partly in body language as she turned her face to the warm evening sun, and licked the face of her grubby bull calf, and partly by saying “Mooooo . . . .” I didn’t need a translator.