Morning of death as cattle face final round-up

A few hundred yards away in the abbatoir, half a dozen bullocks have been selected for slaughter. They don't know it, but in a few minutes their grazing days will to come to and end. It will be quick, less than half an hour from the pen to the chilling room, but it's a process even confirmed carnivores prefer not to dwell on.

John has no such qualms. While he prefers to call his operation a meat factory – slaughterhouse, he says, conjures up the wrong image – at 46, he's become increasingly frustrated with battling against myths and misconceptions, so much so he's one of the few in the industry happy to open the abbatoir doors to anyone who wants to see inside.

"I'm as soft as a brush when it comes to animals," he says, checking on a cow, who calved just a few days earlier. "But we eat meat and animals have to be killed. It's in our interest to treat our animals humanely and here we have nothing to hide and a lot to be proud of. As a country, we've become disconnected from the food we eat. People should know what goes into rearing the meat they buy. They should know how it's killed and if they come here I guarantee it won't put them off. In fact it will make them value the quality of meat they put into their mouths."

I hope so. I like meat a lot. I like broccoli and carrots too, but I've never once flirted with vegetarianism and have no inclination to start now.

Back in the abattoir, the production line has been running since 6.30am. So far, 200 sheep have been slaughtered and once the cattle are finished, they move on to pigs. For now, though, it's the farm's Limousins which have the undivided attention of two of the slaughtermen and, like any other business, there's a growing amount of paperwork to fill out.

Post-BSE, livestock passports were introduced as part of a raft of regulations to tighten up the industry. The documents now have to be updated every time the animal is moved and at John Penny's they receive the final stamp in the back.

"They're not going anywhere from here," says Clive Gittins, who ran his own butcher's shop before joining the company 27 years ago. He's now technical manager and has the kind of pragmatic approach to the business of killing which comes from a lifetime working with meat. "We've got to be able to trace every batch we send out back to the farm it came from, that's why each animal is tagged with the same number that's on its passport.

"It's the first thing we have to check, because once you take their jackets off, cows all look the same."

In the metal enclosures, the cows line up one by one as the kill order is double checked. There's a little pushing and shoving, but the only real noise comes from the radio playing the latest chart music. Clive says that, much like the rest of us, cattle behaviour depends on how they've been brought up and with these having been bred on the farm next door they form an almost orderly queue. It's impossible to delay the inevitable. Around the corner, a man with a captive bolt is waiting. It takes just a second to stun the animal and, as the gate lifts up, it rolls on to the floor, staring glassy-eyed. In the space of five feet, it has moved from a living breathing animal to a piece of meat. Half a tonne of it and John was right – there's no gore. That comes next.

With a heavy chain attached to its leg, the carcass is hoisted into the air. Two quick cuts to each side of the neck and the profusive bleeding stage begins. It's an apt description, but there's no overpowering smell, no final whimper and no twitching of the muscles.

The man wielding the knife is clearly skilled and like the rest of the operation, it's quick and slick. As the cow moves on its way, it passes by half a dozen men on hydraulic platforms. One removes the offal, another loosens the hide and one, more well-built than the rest, has the responsibility of cutting through the carcass. Wearing hard hats and wellington boots, it's a carnivore version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

"Get a closer look at that," says Clive, pointing to a man removing the hide. "If you do it right it's like peeling an orange."

As the meat is prepared for the chiller, two meat inspectors check the offal for any sign of disease. It doesn't happen often, but should they spot any, the animal is pulled out of the process, its meat prevented from entering the food chain. The rest, still hanging on hooks, is slowly cooled, the temperature gradually brought down to 10C to prevent muscle shortening and toughness. In a day or so, it will be butchered on site and the process from farm to plate almost complete. It's a clinical operation and strangely absorbing to watch.

"You see that's exactly what I mean, no horror stories, just a fact of life," says John, who, along with his wife Juliette, is preparing to launch a new website later this month.

Visitors will be able to access recipes, search for stockists supplied by the abattoir and the couple also hope it will be a one stop shop for producers and those interested in setting up their own small-holdings. The family run business is now on it's fourth generation of Pennys and having survived both foot and mouth and BSE, John knows that when you work in agriculture it's often a case of adapt or die.

"You learn to live through difficult times, you have to," he says. "My philosophy has always been to keep looking over the hill, it's no good standing still. Over the last few years we've really expanded the business and we taken on a lot more customers."

One thing which hasn't changed is their commitment to individual farmers and independent butchers.

"We made a conscious decision not to deal with big supermarket chains," adds John. "If farmers aren't paid a fair price for their meat, they will go out of business and ultimately an entire industry could collapse. We need to support every link in the chain and we also need to make the public realise that meat isn't a cheap product. Farmers have to invest in a cow for around two years before they can send it slaughter and to get the best out of an animal requites skill and precision. If you want quality you have to pay for it.

"I do think people's eating habits are changing for the better. It was a novelty to come home and throw something in the microwave, but it's worn off. The problem is that while people want to cook, they don't know how. The knowledge has been lost through a couple of generations and it's hard to get it back. That's part of the thinking behind launching the website. We want to be a part of getting people to think about what they eat. I'm proud of what we do here and anyone who doubts that is more than welcome to come and have a look round."

It's not an invitation many will probably take up, but those that do might just be pleasantly surprised.

It's in our interest to treat our animals humanely... we have nothing to hide and a lot to be proud of.

MEAT ON THE MENU

The British meat industry is one of the most closely controlled and highly regulated industries in Europe.

More than 50 pieces of European and UK legislation cover all aspects of meat safety from production through to retail sale.

Cattle have been farmed in the UK since the first farmers settled here 6,000 years ago.

Today around 2.2 million cattle are slaughtered for beef each year, along with around 15 million sheep and nine million pigs

John Penny will launch its new website on November 19 at www.johnpenny.co.uk