We get chatting to a butcher in the high country in Victoria. We tell him that we’re camped out at Skipworth Reserve on the upper reaches of the Goulburn River.” Catching any fish?” He says.
“No” we sheepishly reply “we don’t like killing them.”
“Neither do I” he says “and I’m a butcher, people think I’m mad!”
itchingforhitching 
That’s funny! I guess though he doesn’t have to kill anything, they come to him already expired.
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Not like the old days, I recently found an ancestor who was transported for stealing a sheep. He was a butcher. I guess he must have run out of stock!
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