![]() ![]() Given the chance, we would most definitely have sprung our gentle friends free to roam the streets and our imagination: cows, pigs, chickens – the lot. As city kids, our view of farm animals was filtered through the misty lens of Disney, but anyone could see the slaughterhouse run was wrong. Often when lorries slowed at a road crossing, groups of children – myself among them – hung on to the rear for a free ride (a risky street game we called ‘going for a hudgie’), but the idea of hanging on to a slaughterhouse truck filled us with revulsion. ![]() We saw them peer out from between the slats of tightly packed trucks as they were steered through town. ![]()
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