Pâté de foie gras ***

Tiffy scampered happily along the edge of the pond. Then she dived in, followed by the whole group of her friends. The youngsters were having a field day, running around, swimming and just generally lazing around. All they had to do was eat, play and laze around all day. It was heaven. As they floated lazily on the warm water of the pond, in the bright sunshine, Tiffy glanced at the far end of the meadow, over the small hillock. The roof of the building could be seen. She had heard so many horrible stories about what went on in those buildings. Could it be true ? Mr Oliver seemed such a nice man. But then, he did come and take away some of the older ones among them, occasionally. Some said the older ones were sent to another pond. Others had more terrifying tales.

***

Tiffy was 12 weeks old. That morning, as she waddled towards to pond, Mr Oliver appeared, with his men. They grabbed several of the ducklings, including Tiffy. Tiffy was petrified. She tried to quack, but no sound came out of her throat. All of them were put in a cage, and then on to a small truck, which took then away. To THE BUILDING.

***

Tiffy was weak and bleary eyed. It was a month since she had arrived at the building, which they now knew as the feeding house. Every few hours, one of them would be grabbed by the throat, and a tube with a funnel showed right down their throats. The pain was excruciating. Watered down corn based cereal will then be continuously poured down the tube. Tiffy’s throat was raw and burning. The cereal gruel painfully distended Tiffy’s throat and insides. The feeding continued until Tiffy was almost bursting. Then, rest, back in the cage. Until the next session, a couple of hours later. Tiffy watched as her friends suffered. Some collapsed, and some died. Why were Mr Oliver and these men doing this ? They had been so gentle before ? Why had they become such cruel monsters?


***

“I think these three are ready,” Mr Oliver was inspecting the ducks. Then, he opened the cage and grabbed Tiffy and another two ducks. They were too terrified to struggle. In any case they were so fat they could hardly move. Mr Oliver moved them over to another room. Tiffy could not believe his eyes. There, several men, holding knives were carving up the ducks. They were extracting the livers, which they carefully packed into small boxes. The boxes were marked “Oliver’s Gourmet Farm. Pâté de foie gras".