Submitted by Sascha on Sun, 06/09/2013 - 11:45

 I’m on Texel, a small Island in the north of Holland.

It was a struggle trying to find somebody who would let me kill the lamb. Now that I have found a place, I’m not to sure if I’m happy about it. A lamb is bigger, more loved, and has a more human expression compared to what I’ve killed so far.  But the meat had a beautiful taste, tender, moist and is rich of flavor. I'm nervous, and doubtful. Not only about the kill of the lamb: now that it is so close, I’m not sure if I really want to continue the project. It is very strange how the size really changes my feelings about the kill. It is 9 o clock in the morning, not my best moment of the day.


I couldn’t sleep last night. I was lying in my bed, tense and restless. I set four  alarms at 6:15 am, to make sure that I would wake up.  During my sleep I had three different dreams of how I killed the lamb. In the first dream, the lamb is smaller than my hand, and I squeeze it to death. In the second I attempt to drown the poor thing. In the third dream,  I am riding my bike through the beautiful nature of Texel, on my left there are two swans flying parallel with me. On my right a group of joyful lambs running along with me. They seem happy, free and alive.

 I wake up, turn on the light and  make myself some breakfast, but don't really have the appetite. I jump in the car and head North.

Coffee and cigarettes are all I consume. I take the ferry to Texel, it's beautiful here. When I arrive at the slaughterhouse and shake the slaughterer's hand and I become more relaxed. He shows me how to handle the sheep. He uses a pin gun. It's fast and easy, the sheep is brain death within a moment. Inside the room where the killing will take place, there is a small area with at least 15 lambs behind a fence. Sheep are more relaxed when they are in a group. He grabs one for me and places it between its knees so that it can’t move. I grab the pin gun. I’m focused; this focus really releases me from all my stress. I aim just above the small bump on top of the skull. I pull the trigger. The lamb hits the ground. All my anxiety flows away. I am moved, but I’m not sure if it's for the right reasons. I'm happy because I don't have to do it again, I’m happy because I have a brave feeling about this cowardly act. I grab the lamb and cut her through. The act of killing is not the problem; it's the thought of killing that is really tough.