The night after. Marble Mountains, Pacific Coast Trail…

[While reading the animated embers burning through shadow and light in the blue-granite fire-pit, there by Summit Lake, I remembered well a thought I had; to ask a rhetorical question about the killing of fish on facebook. Rhetorical only in style, not in its measure of arbitrariness; I do want an answer, your answer… The question arose in a conversation I had with my girlfriend as we watched me slowly and quite unintentionally torturing a fish, to kill before cooking. She had urgently requested that I smash said fishes head against a stone – I opted for slitting its belly open with a butter knife (It wasn’t a butter knife. It was actually an extremely dull disposable razor from an exacto-knife I’d found by our fire pit (my girlfriend actually found it while she was peeing and then placed it by our fire-pit, where I later found it)), cutting its colon, then, after minutes of desperate-solicitude, and a little flopping, passed, pressing the dull steel to remove the creatures head (though fish don’t have heads in the mammalian sense; they mostly just have a body with different organs attached to it – in this case a face – though this is a moot point, I’m sure you’ve seen a fish)…

The suggestion to smash the head was a reasonable one, and I wish I would have tried it. I certainly wish I would have had a sharp knife with me.  It’s not that I’m against killing fish; I only wish to prevent as much suffering as possible, within the realm of killing, which is a different point all together (we’ve discussed going vegetarian in the past, and we’ve both gone vegetarian, or at least that lesser form of vegetarianism where you still eat fish – can’t remember the name for it right now – and, you know, it’s not like we currently eat meat every day, but, don’t get me wrong, I love a little lamb, or double-bacon cheeseburgers, or bacon double-cheeseburgers, as much as the next guy, so who cares about a little fish, right? Well, I do. Despite enjoying veal, venison, and the occasional breaking of a mouse’s spine in a rat trap, or squishing a spider, or tick, or ant, or, switching to not-enjoying but doing now, running over a squirrel in reverse because I was backing up to see if I had missed it when I slammed on my breaks moment early and then hearing the cracking of bones and a little “ggghhhhhhsh” sound as I felt the miniature bump as I rolled backwards, I actually am a pious animal lover. I care about the suffering of other creatures on this little planet.). And this fish was personified from the start and its death was bound to make its mark on my day. When I realized a sharp knife was not an option, I quickly shoved the pointed end of that dull blade through the things’ neck (or where the neck would be). The fish almost smiled as dark blood ran from the puncture hole. It blinked at me, and its eyes turned perpendicular from the POV of its head. K yelled “bash its head on a rock.” I replied a frantic “no” and chose the belly option mentioned above. Without a sharp blade, and zero serration, the only method to get the belly to puncture was a sawing motion (I had a little flash of trying to slice a tomato with the side of a fork). The fish continued to stare at me the entire time while K made squeamish noises over my shoulder. Its guts fell out and I let the animal go free in the frying pan. It flopped. Flopped again. Kicked its tail left and right, up and down, this way and that-a-way, yearning for water. I’m not sure why I though cutting through its guts would benefit me. (I don’t think my instinct is malevolent, but anyone who saw me then, like K, would assume such.) I slit right through its guts – colon to be more precise – and it immediately back shit its feces into its open chest/belly cavity. It blinked at me. Twitched its little gills. Then continued flopping… I couldn’t take it and I grabbed the thing, pressed it hard into the pan, and used the blunt blade to force its head off… I can’t help but think of all the horrible deeds I’ve done to fish in the past. [In the embers I can see a strange scene unfold.] As a small boy I once played egg-toss with a toad with my best bud Brad Humphrise, until its skin started oozing off between our fingers each time we caught it; I punted a 5lb catfish into Lake Gaston; I ate a roommate’s gold-fish alive, because he drank the last beer. But all those things were in my younger years. I’m a bit more of a real boy now. I can’t help remember Richard Dawkins explain why animals with smaller brains would likely have larger pain receptors, to ensure survival. And if my goal is to reduce suffering, I’ve failed miserably with this little fish, who is now partially in my belly, partially in K’s belly, and partially thrown about the Marble Mountains woods (or in a bear’s belly, or, even cooler, a mountain lion’s belly (now, that I think about it, that fish is no longer in my belly, it was gone within an average of 7 hours after going in that acidic pot)).

So then, my question to you, there reader, is, given the circumstance of not having a sharp blade, what it the best method to kill a fish, through the perspective of the fish?] The smoke blew directly into the embers, causing a little dance of flame, and the scene developed more quickly. Around me, the shadow of the mountain had cast our site in darkness. Before me, the blue granite fire pit alive with a private showing of fantasy and dread. But, yet, above me, to the peak and beyond, a sky day blue with small random clouds. I was in a fucking Magritte the entire time… [seriously though, where is pain located within the brain. Do fish have this portion of the brain; reptiles; insects? This has been studied by someone out there. Maybe I’ll google it after someone from facebook delivers their opinion.]