After a group discussion to decide what sort of agricultural outing would be most beneficial, our business development group recently visited Linden Foods.

It seemed like a logical venue, since plenty of the members get their lambs killed there and the chance to witness the whole process, from lambs arriving in the lairage, right through to inspecting the carcases in the fridges, was an obvious means of knowledge enhancement.

And sure enough, while it gave us real insight into the workings and dealings (and headaches) beyond the farmgate, it also provided me with a huge dose of positivity to bring home to this farm.

Not because I saw how lambs are handled pre-slaughter, not because I saw the type of carcases that markets demand, nor had it anything to do with the value of the finished product. No, it was far simpler than that. After an hour on the factory floor it made me appreciate that I have no right to complain, gurn or whinge ever again about my hard life. By comparison, my work is a piece of cake and my workplace is a rural idyll.

Let’s be more specific about this. Despite rearing livestock for human consumption, and fully grasping the complexities of every stage of that animal’s life, from birth right through to sitting on a dinner plate, I blank everything out as soon as stock leave this yard on a final journey.

I consider myself (as a farmer) to be compassionate and empathetic towards all animals in my care and try to ensure that each animal is well looked after during its time here. Yet I do not enjoy even thinking about any stage of the slaughter process.

As farmers, we’re supposed to be tough as old boots, and killing a wagon of animals that have been in our care for months (or years) should maybe feel like the most natural thing in the world. But for me (and I’m probably not alone here) it is not as simple as that.

Exemplary

As far as slaughterhouses go, this one is nothing short of exemplary. I saw incredible efficiency at all levels and stages, and the combination of a skilled workforce allied to high-tech equipment is jaw-droppingly impressive. Mind you, you wouldn’t be advised to wander around too long with your mouth open close to the kill line, since there’s a lot of stuff dripping from above that you mightn’t find too tasty.

To see 90 men and women working on the line, with everyone busily intent on their individual skill, is an incredible achievement for modern technology. And, yet, it is this very thing that made me appreciate my own workplace and working environment.

I stood for a few minutes and studied one man whose job appeared to be lifting the intestines out of a carcase, and throwing them on to a moving platform, where a meat inspector examined them for any signs of disease.

I have no idea what sort of wages the workers earn, but I wouldn’t want to do that work (for several hours at a time) for all the tea in China. More than anything, it made me realise that as farmers, we know nothing about doing truly monotonous work.

On a typical day at this time of year, I might spend an hour working with poultry, followed by breakfast at a time of my choosing. Then it’s up to me whether I check some sheep, or feed the store cattle, or perhaps head round the road on the quad to see the calves.

After that, I may do any one of a hundred different jobs, but the critical point here is that I have the freedom to do exactly as I please.

Grasp

There’s one other aspect about our visit too. When you visit a meat processing company, you come away with a far better grasp of life beyond the farm gate. And when you are given a glimpse of a business that has the everyday headaches of managing hundreds of workers, while trying to sell beef and lamb into highly competitive markets, then you begin to see both sides of the coin.

This has the knock-on effect of diluting some of our previously held cast-iron beliefs that these guys are robbing us blind, and making billions at the same time.

Instead, you could easily find yourself viewing them with less suspicion, and maybe grudgingly admit they are benefitting us as producers. Or is that a step too far?