This morning I visited the “Heart of the City” Farmers' Market, located at the Civic Center near the Main Library. I have been to this market hundreds of times, pretty much weekly ever since I moved to SF four years ago. The strange thing is that in all of that time, nothing ever struck me as dirty or unhealthy. Frankly, I have always felt good about shopping local, supporting the farmers, and schlepping big bags chock full of yummy produce home.
Today was different. Today I went early, and instead of just hitting up the three or four favorite farm stands that I normally do, I sought out a section that I had never noticed before. I guess I just usually don't get there that early, and I also avoid the fishmonger end because of the smell. What I saw was a large truck surrounded by yellow crates and a line of about thirty people. The whole right side of the truck was open, and it was filled with wire cages that were squat and stacked on top of each other. They were jammed in, I am assuming to prevent toppling, and a blue tarp covered most of the cages. A person was hidden behind the tarp, at least from my angle, and was continually passing brown bags to the cashier woman. The cashier woman was kneeled in front of the truck side, and she appeared to be very efficient in taking the customers money and handing out one to two, sometimes four, bags. She would shove the brown paper bag into a plastic grocery bag, and if you could have clicked the scene on mute, it is almost as if you would not know what exactly was being sold.
But the sounds were not muted, so over the chatter of the nearby stalls and the cashier yelling prices, you could hear the squawking. Is it weird that the chickens screeching sounded just like the sickly calves mooing? I pulled out my camera, and shot two photos before the woman noticed. She yelled at her partner who immediately dropped more tarps down, completely concealing everything inside the truck. I would say that it was at that moment that my stomach lurched and I suddenly just felt bad. It felt worse as a chicken popped its head out and she roughly shoved it back in, sealing the bag tighter. It sunk lower when I saw a man swinging four bags at his side, bumping into things, as if he was carting something that didn't have a live, breathing body.
There are a lot of things about this experience that I do not fully understand. I imagine cultural differences come into play, as well as people's views on whether or not poultry deserve the same rights as cattle or pigs. However, even if our ethics differ, I do not know many people who would find it appropriate to have diseased animals traveling on MUNI, near our produce, or into our restaurants. There is no argument that disease is rampant in factory farmed chickens.
The sad thing is that this particular vendor has been cited hundreds of times, and yet he is still allowed to sell at this market. There are similar situations in the Richmond Farmers' Market and just outside the Alemany Farmers' Market, as well. If you are interested in reading more, check out the Humane Society website or even http://www.lgbtcompassion.org/livemarkets/. Both sites have photos, videos, and links to where you can take a step in preventing this unnecessary cruelty to animals. For me, after I write to the market director and the D.A.( districtattorney@sfgov.org ), I am off to shoot photos somewhere to remind me that things are not awful everywhere, and this aching pit in my stomach is not permanent.