An inquisitive youngster might ask his father, “Why don’t we eat giraffe?” The old, popular answer was that we simply don’t know where along the long neck to perform shechitah. However, that answer is disproved by a recent daf. The Gemara in Chullin 45a states that Rabbi Chiyya bar Yosef taught before Rabbi Yohanan: “The entire neck is fit for slaughter, from the large uppermost ring of the windpipe downward until the lower edges of the lung.” This ruling is codified by the Shulchan Aruch. Indeed, finding the right spot on a giraffe’s neck to perform shechitah is like hitting a beachball with a baseball bat; you can’t miss!
Some say we don’t eat giraffe because it doesn’t taste good. Certainly, a quick perusal of a non-kosher supermarket will confirm that you won’t find giraffe meat in the aisles. But food critics have, in fact, tasted it. The meat is intensely lean and low in fat, similar to venison but noticeably more tender when cooked properly. Critics from publications like New York Magazine note a distinct, natural sweetness. Diners often describe it as a cross between a beef sirloin cut and a lamb chop, though it can carry a slightly gamey or bitter undertone.
Still, the import of meat from wild animals in Africa is restricted by the Centers for Disease Control. Perhaps if someone raised a domestic flock of giraffes, the meat would be available. Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky once asked Rabbi Yosef Kafich, z”l, why we don’t eat giraffe meat, to which he responded that at $10,000 a kilogram, it would be ba’al tashchis!
Yet, there is another wrinkle with giraffe meat which leads to a fascinating discussion about the zebu and the bison. For some reason, kids never ask their parents, “Why do we, or don’t we, eat zebu?” A major controversy was reignited in 2004 when it was discovered that much of the South American beef imported into Israel came from zebu cattle or zebu crossbreeds. Zebus feature a fatty hump over their shoulders, large drooping ears, and a loose flap of skin (dewlap) under their chin.
At face value, this should be of no concern. After all, the Torah is very clear about what makes an animal kosher: it must have split hooves and chew its cud. The zebu possesses both of these signs, making it undeniably kosher. However, there is a machlokes over how to understand a particular ruling of the Shach.
Shulchan Aruch (Y.D. 80) discusses how to identify a chaya (wild animal) in contrast to a beheima (domesticated animal). There is a Torah obligation to cover the blood of a chaya after shechitah, whereas a chaya does not have forbidden cheilev fat. For example, when preparing kosher beef (beheima), one must be meticulous about removing the cheilev found by the ribs, as eating it is punishable by kareis. This exact fat is permissible on a chaya. Therefore, it is important to know how to differentiate between a beheima and a chaya so that if one finds a new species of animal, he would know whether he needs to cover the blood and would be permitted to eat the parts known as cheilev.
The Shach states that establishing identifying criteria to differentiate between a beheima and a chaya is ultimately irrelevant, as we do not consume animals for which we have no mesorah. This approach is similar to the restriction regarding kosher birds: despite the physical signs mentioned by the Gemara, we only consume species for which there is a clear, continuous tradition of their kosher status.
The Pri Megadim takes issue with the simple meaning of the Shach’s position. He asks why there would be a custom requiring a mesorah for mammals. The simanim of kosher birds are complex and thus prone to error, but the simanim of mammals, split hooves and chewing the cud, are straightforward and leave little room for confusion. Therefore, the Pri Megadim suggests that the minhag regarding unfamiliar mammals is to treat all unknown species as a safek chaya. Out of caution, we require the stringencies of both a chaya and a beheima: we must cover the blood (the stringency of a chaya), and we must strictly forbid its cheilev fats (the stringency of a beheima).
The Chochmas Adam, however, understands the Shach in its simplest sense: one should not eat unknown species at all. The Chazon Ish followed this as practical halacha. Seemingly, this makes no sense. If we know an animal possesses the kosher signs, why shouldn’t we be able to eat it?
HaRav Shlomo Miller offered a logical explanation for the Shach and the Chazon Ish. As noted by the Pri Megadim, if we encounter a new species of animal and we don’t know whether it is a chaya or a beheima, we would need to be machmir on both ends: covering its blood and refraining from eating its cheilev. At face value, this would appear silly to an observer. Why keep two stringencies that are diametrically opposed? The animal cannot be both a chaya and a beheima at the same time! Yet, due to halachic uncertainty, that is exactly what we would be required to do. To avoid this seemingly laughable contradiction, which might not be followed, the custom developed to simply refrain from eating new animal species altogether. As a practical matter, in accordance with the Chazon Ish’s ruling, many Israeli hechsherim do not allow zebu.
However, many American hechsherim are not as makpid on this point and do allow zebu, relying on other halachic perspectives.
This brings us to the bison. The Bronx Zoo once posted a joke on a sign outside an exhibit: “What did the Mother Buffalo say to its calf? Bison.” The sign goes on to explain that bison and buffalo are two completely different animals. While the Rema explicitly discusses the status of the buffalo, the bison is a different species. Yet, the OU, following the ruling of the Pri Megadim, certifies kosher bison. However, this author was told that Rav Dovid Feinstein, zt”l, held that one should be stringent regarding bison.
The permissibility of consuming zebu and bison hinges entirely on this earlier machlokes. Returning to the giraffe, which has split hooves and chews its cud: according to the Pri Megadim, there is no question that it is kosher. But could someone who follows the Chazon Ish’s ruling eat giraffe meat? Since there appears to be no mesorah of eating giraffe, it would seem forbidden. However, some point out that Rav Saadiah Gaon, the Radak, and other early Torah commentators identify the zemer, listed among the ten types of kosher animals in Devarim (14:4-5), as the giraffe. This suggests that we do have a historical mesorah. But because that definition is itself subject to dispute, the mesorah is arguably broken.
Rabbi Natan Slifkin once considered serving kosher giraffe at his Biblical Museum of Natural History in Israel but realized the public outcry just wouldn’t be worth it. The Copenhagen Zoo learned a similar lesson. They had to euthanize a giraffe that couldn’t breed due to genetic reasons. While this is standard practice, the zoo faced a major PR disaster, even receiving death threats, because they handled it publicly and fed the remains to lions in front of visitors. It serves as a reminder that, even if lions eating giraffes is perfectly natural, most people prefer not to see that kind of scene firsthand!
Maggid shiur and Rebbe at Yeshiva Ateres Shimon in Far Rockaway. He leads the Daf Yomi chaburah at Eitz Chayim of Dogwood Park in West Hempstead, and writes “Delving into the Daf” each week for The Jewish Home.
