Sat 28 Feb 2015

While walking through the Kanchanaburi night market, we spotted fried cockroaches, crickets, beetles, frogs and silk worms. The adventurous side of me thought that I should definitely have a taste. I quickly squashed that ridiculous, adventure nonsense and moved on.

Dozens of people were walking around with small cages, filled with finches for sale. The hippy in me (a very small organism somewhere under my foot) thought about buying them in order to set them free. But the entrepreneurial Thais had beaten me to the thought. The finches’ purpose was to be bought and set free. I realised this as I watched a young girl opening her cage to release the tiny, feathered commodities into the Asian wilderness of Kanchanaburi.

I suddenly swung my opinion 180 degrees and refused to buy them, as that would be supporting something quite cruel. The cute little birds were crammed into tiny, metal cages, awaiting a sympathetic sucker to purchase their freedom.

Immediately after my ethically correct decision, I walked over to the food court and had no problems ordering stir-fried chicken noodles. The poor, delicious chicken probably spent most of its life in a tiny cage, awaiting the wok. The only form of sympathy it could have experienced was a quick and painless beheading, with a sharp knife and heavy hand.

While digesting my dinner, the thought of turning vegan fluttered through my mind, but quickly disappeared along with the finches. Seeing my food pre-packaged or pre-cooked, instead of as a living, breathing, suffering animal is extremely convenient and sets a decent mental barrier between me and the butcher. This has, in no way, stopped me from ordering bacon and eggs for breakfast. Maybe things would be different if I had to slaughter Wilbur myself.