Riding the Gut Sledge

You may find it surprising, maybe  off-putting
when I tell you a favorite childhood recollection-- 
riding the gut sledge to the dump
a mile or so from the home ranch.
Hooked with a chain to a John Deere tractor,
the wooden sledge was piled with entrails,
 stomachs,  a mound of intestines,
 and a six-year old child in coveralls 
on the back of the  sledge,  dragging a stick in the dust,
my black and white  rat terrier trotting behind.

It might seem odd that I remember with fondness
watching the butchering of a beef for the ranch larder,
the way the hanging carcass seemed like a cave,
the blue, white, silver cavity cleaned with cold water,
The concentration of the hired hand, 
the sound of his knife on the whetstone,
Now I know what a privilege to be a participatant, 
even by watching, and to remember the blessing 
at my grandparents’ table: “Bless this food to our use,
 that it may nourish and strengthen our bodies.”









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