If you had asked me a few years ago if I wanted to dissect a frog or investigate some owl droppings (poop) I would've said "Heck, yeah! Awesome, science!" and gladly stuck my bare hands into it.
Now recently, we've had to work on a mink.
WARNING: Squeamish people need not read on.
And this isn't exactly the ugliest thing I've seen, but MAN is it gross. It smells BAD. Not like rotting roadkill or stenchy bacterial corpse bad, but in-your-face chemicals and preservatives bad. It was wrinkly and stiff and there was fat that we had to scrape off of it.
And, well, it's pretty bad as it is, and I'm not usually a sensitive girly "ew ew ew idontwannatouchit" kind of person when it comes to this stuff but after having gone through a crisis like I did, your perception of life and death is different. Looking at the poor creature, I couldn't help but think about how it would feel to be a rodent, a lowly mammal, raised and hunted for my fur, and seeing the effects that death has on something that once was alive... I wonder... I mean, only a freak like me would make that connection, but still...?
I feel bad for the poor thing. And I try to assimilate normalcy, by joking around and making kissy faces at it and stabbing its eyeballs (yes I admit it was kind-of fun, and helped me cope with the fact that I was, in fact, dealing with an animal corpse)
but now..
YASGETWBLEGGGHHHHHH
*shudder
So there. A little anecdote about my strange throughts.
May you continue to eat your meaty dinners, as though nothing happened.
Now recently, we've had to work on a mink.
WARNING: Squeamish people need not read on.
And this isn't exactly the ugliest thing I've seen, but MAN is it gross. It smells BAD. Not like rotting roadkill or stenchy bacterial corpse bad, but in-your-face chemicals and preservatives bad. It was wrinkly and stiff and there was fat that we had to scrape off of it.
And, well, it's pretty bad as it is, and I'm not usually a sensitive girly "ew ew ew idontwannatouchit" kind of person when it comes to this stuff but after having gone through a crisis like I did, your perception of life and death is different. Looking at the poor creature, I couldn't help but think about how it would feel to be a rodent, a lowly mammal, raised and hunted for my fur, and seeing the effects that death has on something that once was alive... I wonder... I mean, only a freak like me would make that connection, but still...?
I feel bad for the poor thing. And I try to assimilate normalcy, by joking around and making kissy faces at it and stabbing its eyeballs (yes I admit it was kind-of fun, and helped me cope with the fact that I was, in fact, dealing with an animal corpse)
but now..
YASGETWBLEGGGHHHHHH
*shudder
So there. A little anecdote about my strange throughts.
May you continue to eat your meaty dinners, as though nothing happened.
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