Left alone

Timo curled up very tightly in the farthest corner of the shack in which he had been locked. The first snowflakes rolled gently down and he froze terribly. But much worse than the cold was the loneliness, the terrible fear of never being able to see his mother again. But he was only in the world for a very short time. Shouldn’t he snuggle up with his mom, drink with her? He curled up a little more. As far as it went. Well, his shack was thickly padded with straw, but the cold still stayed and even the thickest layer of straw didn’t help against the loneliness. Especially not against fear. But what happened? Why did he have to be there? He heard his mom calling. She couldn’t be far away. Still, he was here, and she was there.

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The orphaned Calf

Milk is healthy and good for you. Milk strengthens the bones and is even supposed to make you smart, as the NÖM advertising suggests. We’ve been told this old wives‘ tale since the 1960s and we believe it. This is accompanied by scenarios of happy cows in the pasture, calves happily jumping around and the whole rural idyll that advertising likes to suggest to us. If the animals are doing so well anyway and this wonderful white drink is so good for us, why should we not? Milk might still work, but cheese is so terribly good. Some people can never do without it, as they think.

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Help, my child is still not #weaned

Family, interpersonal tragedies are usually carried out in secret. After all, you don’t want to be seen as someone who did something wrong, especially because you’re under the mistaken assumption that it’s just my problem and everyone else is doing it right. But as with many other things, you can also see here that someone has to start daring to go public to see that many others feel the same way as I do. I’m not alone in this. It falls like the proverbial scales fall from your eyes. Ms. K., as one of those affected, has kindly agreed to speak about it here. Understandably, she wishes to remain anonymous.

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With whom to sympathize and with whom not? (2)

„I’m telling you, the wolf has no place in our forests!“ finally came an objection from the father, who had finished his meal and leaned back with every sign of comfort. Now he could speak again. “We have never had a wolf before, and we don’t need one. Blame it on those who think we should let everyone in, refugees and wolves. You can see what’s happening. The refugees are also the ones who slaughter the animals, i.e. slit their throats while they are alive without being anaesthetized. The Muslims and the Jews do that. I praise the good behavior and the humane killing. You can twist it however you want, they just don’t have our civilization and our education.”
„Exactly,“ the mother agreed, „everyone should be shot.“
„The refugees?“, Katharina was amazed, „But that’s already bad.“

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They are just Babies

Max is curled up, curled up very tightly, in his box, in which he has to live in solitary confinement. Of course, he doesn’t have a name, just a number. It doesn’t pay to name him. He’s just a calf, plus a male that will soon be dead or somewhere on a truck shipped for slaughter. I gave him his name to give him a remnant of dignity, as if he had been someone in the middle of an industry in which it is only something. Something that will make money or not. He doesn’t bring any. He’s worth € 8.49 in this industry. The feed that he needs costs more, this cheapest milk replacer. Even that is still too expensive. His value is measured according to his usefulness. He doesn’t have one, not in this system, but for his mother he is the world. He curls up so that the cold goes away, especially that of loneliness. All he wanted was to be with his mother. Sucking, not only to satisfy hunger, but also because it is good for you. But he has to be there, all alone. He doesn’t understand why. He wanted nothing more than to be with his mom as it should be, nothing more than to live.

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Human, do you know what are you doing to me?

Human, do you know what it feels like when your family is destroyed?

Can you understand how I suffer
When I get pregnant every year
Just so that my child will be snatched away from me
My girl they put in the calf crate
Where I can hear them
Call out to her
And yet I can’t take care of her
So close,
Forever lost
My son,
whom they put in the van,
Unsupervised,
One more baby
To send him thousands of kilometers to his death.

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Milk is Suffering

Milk is suffering, sickness, murder & death
Milk destroys your health and the life of the cows.

There is a world osteoporosis day.
Decrease in bone density.
Millions of people are affected.
Drink more milk,
they are told
from doctors.
Then why is the proportion so high in countries
in which a lot of dairy products are consumed?
Because it’s a lie.
One should know better.
The calcium in cow’s milk breaks the bones.
They don’t say that.
Because they don’t want
that we are healthy.
Sick people are good for the system.
Osteoporosis is good
for the pharmaceutical industry
for the hospitals
for the doctors
for the dairy industry
for industry.
Healthy people don’t make money.
The pharmaceutical lobby remains seated on its medication.
The doctors would not be busy.
The hospitals have far fewer patients.
The dairy industry would have no sales markets.
Industry would have to cut production.

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There is no Escape (2)

One day she gave birth to a baby. It wanted to snuggle up to its mother, but was not allowed to. They grabbed the little one, tossed it into a disc chest and took it away. It was a girl. So they put her in a box, just like the one in which she had to spend her first days, which she had just given birth. If it had been a boy, after a few days he would have been loaded onto a transporter and sent thousands of kilometers to his death. But she didn’t care, she just wanted her baby with her. With eyes wide with terror, she had to watch as it was snatched from her. It almost broke her heart. She didn’t understand. There was nothing to understand about it either.

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There is no Escape (1)

Your head sinks. She closes her eyes. On her last night. She does not know. Neither can she, but she feels it. Your last night in captivity. Your last night before the freedom of death. She will be taken out. She will briefly take a look at the sun. The grass. The wide. The first time. The last time. Then they will be driven onto the van. She will already be so exhausted, exhausted from a life of suffering and pain in which she could barely take a step forward or backward, that she will not make it through those few feet.

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Vegan Means Saying Yes to Life (1)

Once upon a time there was a girl named Liv, which means life, at least in the Scandinavian area, who went for a walk with her dog Nanna. She was a mixture of different herding dogs, roll brown, with long fur, large and stocky, but as good-natured as a little lamb. During a vacation in Romania, Liv and her family picked up the bitch on the street as a baby. Since then she has been with them and always with Liv. That day Liv had been deep in thought and hadn’t paid attention to the way. Only when a miserable mooing reached her ear did she look up and try to orientate herself. They were standing on a path in the middle of fields. They had left the place far behind. But where did the sounds come from, which were clearly identifiable as such, that cows made. Little cows. Liv finally identified tiny huts, each of which was a small fenced area. It looked like mini houses with a balcony. And there was a calf in each of these huts.

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