
Cue the moral outrage! This week Bethany Jean Clement writes about eating a blind steer she became rather fond of on her grandmother's ranch.
His lack of sight didn't concern anyone much, even him. He didn't bump into things or ever seem lost. His eyes were mesmerizing—not milky, but all mirrored, like a cat's eyes caught in a beam of light at night. A cow's pupils are big, and the expanse of mirror of the blind steer's eyes was considerable. You could stare into the blind steer's eyes all you wanted, for he liked to stand at the fence closest to the house. He was alone, and possibly bored, or waiting for the scraps that got thrown over the fence. I was pretty much grown, and I'd never named a cow in my life. I called him Ray Charles.
And what became of him? And why? How did he taste? Those and other questions answered HERE.
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