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The Rock-itt : July 2012
Signature: Expiry: / To help Fender & his friends go to www.animal-lib.org.au or complete the form and post to: Animal Liberation NSW, Suite 506, 89 York Street, Sydney NSW 2000 CSV: Dear Supporter, Hi there! My name’s Fender, and I’m a pig. I’m as cute as a button, adorable in fact, but don’t let the anthropomorphism fool you. What I’m writing to you about is no joke, it’s serious – terribly serious. More about me and my life story later. But first, please let me fill you in about the terrible suffering endured by countless thousands of my fellow pigs. Not that the atrocities would be any more justifiable if we were not too bright, by the way, but we’re actually highly intelligent animals – and very sociable. 95% of us are raised in factories rather than farms. Row after row of pregnant sows are confined in tiny metal stalls, barely able to move. In the next shed are hundreds of mother pigs, who are prevented (by metal bars) from interacting with their piglets, and kept in stalls too small even to turn around in. As for the piglets themselves, the poor little tykes have their teeth clipped and their tails cut off without any pain relief. Once a pig gives birth, she is rested for a week before being artificially inseminated in the ‘rape-rack’, as it’s so hideously (but accurately) referred to in the industry. To give birth she is moved to a tiny crate scarcely bigger than her body, with no straw and no bedding ... and so the horrible cycle continues. Confined pigs are bored, miserable and so distressed they suck their cage bars. We also wave our heads, roll our tongues, chew on nothing, stretch our mouths and paw the floor. Then, when our fertility begins to decline, we are slaughtered – five million of us every year in this country alone. And all this is perpetuated just so our meat can be sold cheaply on supermarket shelves. My friend Gibson and I were confined in a metal crate because we were sick. I weighed just 1.2 kilos, and Gibson weighed 2.3 but his legs were swollen and full of abscesses. Then one happy day we were rescued by some wonderful humans, and – thanks to the appropriate medical attention – Gibson’s abscesses eventually healed. His legs were still crooked, and his ligaments were shorter than normal, but life was so much better than before. We could play and run around and enjoy fresh air. In short, we were no longer in Hell. Sadly, the same could not be said of our many brothers and sisters – or of our mother, whom we only ever saw for a moment. Eventually we were moved to a huge paddock, replete with mud and other prerequisites for a fulfilling piggy existence. Unfortunately my friend Gibson passed away, but I’m happy to say I have a new porcine pal to play with: another rescued ‘inmate’ called Nosey. Our friend and benefactor Joanne wants to build a new fence on one side of her property, and to make other improvements so that we can be safe from predators. Such things cost money of course, and this is where you, dear supporter, come in. Animal Liberation is all in favour of this project, which will require about $4000, so anything you can cough up would be very much appreciated. Also, Joanne is one of a handful of people who take in our feline friends who no-one else seems to want. The elderly and those damaged by interaction with bad humans. She badly needs help to feed our friends the cats, as well as us. Please help if you can. Yours oinkfully, PLEA FOR PIGS Pictures at top from left: Gibson & Fender at Piggery, Gibson with injuries & swollen legs Pictures at bottom from left: Gibson & Fender after being rescued, Gibson & Fender months after being rescued, Fender & Gibson at farm