Growing up my dad was a foreman at a USDA slaughterhouse plant in northern California. I wont give the name but it is currently one of the oldest running plants. The owner got it from his grandparents and so on reaching well over a century in the owners family for production.
The plant was specialized in goats sheep and hogs. Steers were accepted but their bulk proved too much for most of the ramps and the railing used to moved the carcasses. In front of the property was a small farm house painted yellow but due to the dust in the air it had an odd over bright nostalgic look to it. Something you’d expect to see from the 90’s and early 2000’s.
It wouldn’t be surprising we as a family stayed in that small farm house for my dads work. We didnt always live there, but we did move in when I was around 6 years old. To this day I still remember the smell when I got out that car for the first time to see our new house. so god awful it stung your nostrils and made you want to throw up. Nor-Cal [northern California] during the late 90’s early 00’s was experiencing a drought and the heat was unbearable.
Tell me have you ever seen or smelt processed flesh and refuse from dead animals? I have seen blood steam on a pavement as the Talo truck dumped dumpster bins full of unused animal parts. Coupled with the heat it was litterly hell to watch and witness. A young kids mind tends to wander you know and imaginations run wild. So this next part I want to say with a grain of salt but for the life of me it felt so real.
One of the hot days my mom told me to bring my dad his lunch and a Gatorade to him since he was busy. Mom said he was at the top level of the slaughterhouse and to hurry up we were going to see our grandparents after. By this time I was accustomed to the smell and atmosphere but was highly put off by dead animals and flesh and tended to avoid it at all cost.
The walk to the slaughter house portion of the plant was always the worst. I had walked with my mom before to check it out but this would of bene the first time doing so alone. Making the first corner I noticed a trailer that had steers in it. Which is a rare sight since they rarely took those kind of jobs for ranchers. Was unnerving to see such big creatures up close at that time. They were obviously scared and were perhaps slightly hostile. If I could smell death I know they could to.
Of course at the time I did not understand why they acted that way. Perhaps not putting two and two together they were about to be slaughtered. Regardless I continued up to the slaughter house with the lunch box in hand and tenderly opened the door which was way too tall for me to reach to begin with. Heaving on my tip toes I was able to get it opened before stopping myself as I stepped inside. looking down I seen blood pooling before me.
It looked thick and was churning with some oil or perhaps water on the ground giving a weird texture. The smell was rich with iron and I could feel bile spilling up into my throat. Taking a deep breath of courage I stepped over the pool quickly and closed the door behind me. The stairs to the top level were very steep and rose to quickly. For an adult this is annoying as you need to make big steps but for a kid this was rough.
I do not recall how tall the stairs were and even If I did try it felt much too tall for a 6 year old. Nonetheless I continued my climb all the while perhaps pretending I was a mountaineer of some sort. While ascending the stairs I could hear the machinery ahead and even some odd deep moaning followed by silence and the downpour of liquids splashing at first then slowing to a trickle. Not knowing what was going on I continued my way up slowly.
Seconds go by and the door at the top of the floor opens with more laughter before promptly closing the door. I called out to them hoping I wouldn’t have to climb the rest of the way but it seems they were already back inside, perhaps just throwing out a cigarette bud or something. I recall sighing with impatience as I made the last section of stairs going up.
The stairs still being too steep required me to use my hands to stabilize myself at each intersection of the floors. I wasn’t expected that would be my undoing and create a trauma in me that I still feel today.
As I got near the top of the floor at the next stair intersection I had to place my hand down as to make my way up easier. My hand touched something hot and wet. pulling my hand up to my face i seen it was covered in blood and mucus of some type. freaking out slightly i began wiping my hand on the wall and that’s when I saw it.
A severed steers head staring back at me. Blood and mucus was coming from its eyes and the severed region around its neck. It was clearly fresh as it blinked and moved its eyes slowly. The tongue that was sticking out of its mouth slowly sunk back into its jaw. And the ears kept twitching like it was having a seizure. I remember standing in shock as the door opened once more and another steer head fresh was tossed out. This one hitting me and knocking me down the stairs head with it.
I remember shouting and foot steps coming down towards me. But I was in shock. My arms and ribs hurt astronomically and i was hyperventilating as the fresh severed head kept twitching top of me. The blood soaking into my shirt and clothes. Mucus making it slippery. The head itself heavy. Last thing I remember was staring at the twitching head before my dad came and picked me up.
Thankfully nothing was broken, and I was cleaned up quickly at the house. I assume whoever threw the head did not know I was there. Still don’t know if my dad did it or another employee. but for a 6 year old it was rather traumatizing.
This of course was but one of the issues I had growing up at a 100+ year old slaughterhouse. Other things I remember I feel as though I should write them down to process these feelings. Especially growing into my teen years. I think I will save that for later. I am starting to imagine that funny smell again and I have to climb a set of stairs to my hotel room tonight.