Friday, May 28, 2010
my haiku for spring
fence posts straight, wire tight
green grass clean cows munching browsing drowsing
dandelions taste sweet
green grass clean cows munching browsing drowsing
dandelions taste sweet
Dying Breed
The barn at a dairy farm in town burnt down this morning. I heard the sirens go through while I was at work and my husband, Peter, called me to tell me it wasn't us, in case people were talking. Tonight we learned that, although it happened mid morning, 160 cows died in the fire. Maybe they were inside because it was so hot out today. I put my cows in their barn too this morning, so they would not have to suffer in the hot sun.
One thing about cows is, if they panic, they want to go back to the barn. If they're in a panic, they won't want to leave the barn. Horses are the same way, I believe. Even if the barn is on fire, they don't want to leave. Another farm a little ways away from here had a barn fire last fall, and in the end, the poor farmer shot his cows at the last minute so they wouldn't have to burn to death. After this happened, I felt very worried about having to shoot cows; but Peter suggested that, should we be so unfortunate, we could make a big hole in the side of the barn with the tractor. This seemed to soothe me at the time.
"Shit," said Peter, "I would die in the fire before I let cows burn to death."
"Shut up," I said. "What kind of sense does that make. We couldn't rebuild without you."
This seemed much worse than the thought of shooting cows.
I can think of many things I like about dairy farming. Seeing the cows eating grass or lazing contentedly in the pasture. Drinking cream off the top of the milk jug. The moment at the end of the evening when every udder is empty and every mouth is full and every bed is clean. The satisfaction of a hard day's work completed.
But for Peter, farming really seems like a life time of endless toil. A job well done can be acknowledged, but quick enough another one will take its place. I have heard him curse a cow for a minor infraction in a way that would make a sailor blush and seen him beat a heifer with a metal pipe so badly I worried he would damage her spine. The end of chores for the day is only a reminder that the whole routine must be completed again in 12 hours. Farming is in many ways a thankless job, and Peter seems to know each one by name.
There is a piece of pride, I think, in keeping what your great great grandparents began going, in carring on the farm when so many have folded. But to say that you would die saving the animals that you curse body and soul on a daily basis ... I don't know what to think about that. Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome to me.
"I guess you can't say what you can do unless you were there," he conceded after a while. "But it sucks that there's only 2 farms left in town."
One thing about cows is, if they panic, they want to go back to the barn. If they're in a panic, they won't want to leave the barn. Horses are the same way, I believe. Even if the barn is on fire, they don't want to leave. Another farm a little ways away from here had a barn fire last fall, and in the end, the poor farmer shot his cows at the last minute so they wouldn't have to burn to death. After this happened, I felt very worried about having to shoot cows; but Peter suggested that, should we be so unfortunate, we could make a big hole in the side of the barn with the tractor. This seemed to soothe me at the time.
"Shit," said Peter, "I would die in the fire before I let cows burn to death."
"Shut up," I said. "What kind of sense does that make. We couldn't rebuild without you."
This seemed much worse than the thought of shooting cows.
I can think of many things I like about dairy farming. Seeing the cows eating grass or lazing contentedly in the pasture. Drinking cream off the top of the milk jug. The moment at the end of the evening when every udder is empty and every mouth is full and every bed is clean. The satisfaction of a hard day's work completed.
But for Peter, farming really seems like a life time of endless toil. A job well done can be acknowledged, but quick enough another one will take its place. I have heard him curse a cow for a minor infraction in a way that would make a sailor blush and seen him beat a heifer with a metal pipe so badly I worried he would damage her spine. The end of chores for the day is only a reminder that the whole routine must be completed again in 12 hours. Farming is in many ways a thankless job, and Peter seems to know each one by name.
There is a piece of pride, I think, in keeping what your great great grandparents began going, in carring on the farm when so many have folded. But to say that you would die saving the animals that you curse body and soul on a daily basis ... I don't know what to think about that. Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome to me.
"I guess you can't say what you can do unless you were there," he conceded after a while. "But it sucks that there's only 2 farms left in town."
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
required reading
My husband's grandma gave me a book to look at. Is is from a man who used to live in our town. He has since passed away and his son is 85 years old, so I suspect he got it shortly after the time of it's publication in 1895. It's called "ABC of Agriculture." The book says it's written for people who would like to go into farming as adults.
Would we discourage those who, in mature years, would adopt some form of agriculture for the remainder of their lives? Assuredly not, for it is to aid such that this "Abc of Agriculture" is proposed, not more to point out what should be done, than to show what should be avoided.
"With what did you manure that field?" was asked of a young farmer by one who noticed a promising crop. "With brains sir!" was the reply, meaning that had had given thought to the crop and treated it accordingly. Nowhere are "brains" more needed than on the farm.
True that.
And how about this one:
It is the object of the thoughtful husbandman to get paying crops, to have the land either getting better and more fertile. or at least not losing in productive power.
Chemical fertilizers and over tilling are disparaged against here.
And in closing:
The book talks about the farmer being judicious and careful in the feeding of his animals and that when some care and thought are taken, the result will be much better for the animal ... The reason for this is found in a better adjustment of the ration, regularity in feeding and watering, warmth and cleanliness. In ten years it may make all the difference between a poor farmer and a rich one. (This is really the XYZ of agriculture.)
A very interesting thing is that in the back of the book are the other books sold by this publisher. There are probably 40 different titles back there. "The New Onion Culture" "The American Standard of Perfection" (a book about poultry breeding that is still published today) "Keeping One Cow" "Forest Planting" "Batty's Practical Taxidermy and Home Decoration" and "The Ice Crop" ("For all interested in ice houses, cold storage, and the handling and use of ice in any way, including many receipes for iced dishes and beverages.") I figured 120 years ago, people just learned this stuff from their parents or from other people in their towns. But here is a whole set of volumes on learning these skills from books.
Would we discourage those who, in mature years, would adopt some form of agriculture for the remainder of their lives? Assuredly not, for it is to aid such that this "Abc of Agriculture" is proposed, not more to point out what should be done, than to show what should be avoided.
"With what did you manure that field?" was asked of a young farmer by one who noticed a promising crop. "With brains sir!" was the reply, meaning that had had given thought to the crop and treated it accordingly. Nowhere are "brains" more needed than on the farm.
True that.
And how about this one:
It is the object of the thoughtful husbandman to get paying crops, to have the land either getting better and more fertile. or at least not losing in productive power.
Chemical fertilizers and over tilling are disparaged against here.
And in closing:
The book talks about the farmer being judicious and careful in the feeding of his animals and that when some care and thought are taken, the result will be much better for the animal ... The reason for this is found in a better adjustment of the ration, regularity in feeding and watering, warmth and cleanliness. In ten years it may make all the difference between a poor farmer and a rich one. (This is really the XYZ of agriculture.)
A very interesting thing is that in the back of the book are the other books sold by this publisher. There are probably 40 different titles back there. "The New Onion Culture" "The American Standard of Perfection" (a book about poultry breeding that is still published today) "Keeping One Cow" "Forest Planting" "Batty's Practical Taxidermy and Home Decoration" and "The Ice Crop" ("For all interested in ice houses, cold storage, and the handling and use of ice in any way, including many receipes for iced dishes and beverages.") I figured 120 years ago, people just learned this stuff from their parents or from other people in their towns. But here is a whole set of volumes on learning these skills from books.
ox school: taking care of business
So, I've got this steer, Lucky. He's pretty good, but really I would like him to be great, especially now that he is getting big. I want him to be well enough behaved that other people could drive him and so that I can ride him. So, there are some bad habits that need to be eradicated. Number one is his trying to crowd me off to the side while I'm walking with him. I think it's a dominance thing. Someone gave me a good tip last summer on how to deal with this sort of thing that I finally got around to trying out - tape a nail to the bottom of your goad. If he starts to crowd just hold the nail out and let him crowd right into it.
Really, in one walk, problem solved. If only all issues were so easily resolved.
Really, in one walk, problem solved. If only all issues were so easily resolved.
proletariat revolts?
so ... i think my beehive has a problem ... i think either there is no queen or the queen has a problem that is making her lay only male eggs. i, and my mentor from the Vermont Beekeeper's Association, are working on this; however, in the meantime, i do like this picture.
Friday, May 14, 2010
getting their graze on
I think I've gotten the solar fence charger working and my cows are out having some grass.
Here's some pictures:
Here's some pictures:
Thursday, May 13, 2010
it's what's for dinner
As a teenager, soon after I came to the realization that Jesus would not be returning before I was old enough to vote, I started to think about things other than the impending Armageddon. One of the things I began to think about was food and where it comes from. We had a garden and I knew that milk came from cows and all the basic stuff, but I had never really ruminated on the finer points of how the world was fed before. Now, this is a question that you can really spend an entire career thinking about (see Pollan, Michael), but I think the first thing that comes naturally to many American teenagers is the question of where meat comes from. I think this is because one thing certain American teenagers become attuned to easily (and rightfully so) is a sense of fairness and justice. And if you have developed a concern for fairness and justice, once you realize where most meat comes from, you are fucking outraged and become a vegetarian. I did. You might even take it a step further and realize that even milk and eggs usually result in the suffering of animals and always in their eventual death and become a vegan. The production of inexpensive meat also results in the suffering of many many people who have to work in horrible feed-lot operations and slaughter facilities, or, worse yet, must go hungry or thirsty because land is being used to grow grain or give water to animals while they suffer.
And so, for 10 years, I didn’t eat meat. In the course of those years I found out more about ethically raised animal products and about different kinds of farm land – kinds that were good for raising plant protein (like beans) and kinds that were better at raising grass for animals to graze and then give us milk and meat. I thought about things like the fact that agrarian cultures had almost always had animals, which were viewed as valuable companions and valuable resources. Also, anyone raising crops will need fertilizer and if you’re not going to buy chemical fertilizers and if you’re not going to live close enough to the ocean to use seaweed, you’re gonna want some shit.
Then, I came to work on a farm, a farm with animals. I realized that if I wanted my animals to have a natural, pleasant and productive life, I also needed to be able to give them a swift death and to not let their bodies go to waste after their spirits had left them.
So I found someone to show me how to butcher a rooster. I wondered if I could do it. I had never killed anything bigger than a large spider. I don’t think I ever even ran over a mouse or a squirrel with my car. But I thanked the rooster for it’s life and took the rooster’s head in one hand and the knife in the other (its tied upsidedown) and cut its head off. (The person who showed me also showed me how to slit the bird’s throat, but if it were me, I’d rather someone cut my head off than slit my throat any day.) With the aid of a scalder and a plucker he went from something you would see in the pasture to something you would see in the oven in 10 minutes.
Even something a small as a rooster can feed you for several meals. The meat, of course, can be prepared any number of different ways. The fat can be rendered into a spread for bread or cooking called schmaltz. http://www.sadiesalome.com/recipes/schmaltz.html The heart and liver are okay as well. Sad to say, I can’t bring myself to eat the gizzard, but some people love them. I gave it to my cat. The bones can be made into stock for soups or stews. And all the bits that you can’t eat can be composted into fertilizer for the land.
I hope the rooster knows how much he was appreciated for everything he brought to the farm in his life and in his death.
And so, for 10 years, I didn’t eat meat. In the course of those years I found out more about ethically raised animal products and about different kinds of farm land – kinds that were good for raising plant protein (like beans) and kinds that were better at raising grass for animals to graze and then give us milk and meat. I thought about things like the fact that agrarian cultures had almost always had animals, which were viewed as valuable companions and valuable resources. Also, anyone raising crops will need fertilizer and if you’re not going to buy chemical fertilizers and if you’re not going to live close enough to the ocean to use seaweed, you’re gonna want some shit.
Then, I came to work on a farm, a farm with animals. I realized that if I wanted my animals to have a natural, pleasant and productive life, I also needed to be able to give them a swift death and to not let their bodies go to waste after their spirits had left them.
So I found someone to show me how to butcher a rooster. I wondered if I could do it. I had never killed anything bigger than a large spider. I don’t think I ever even ran over a mouse or a squirrel with my car. But I thanked the rooster for it’s life and took the rooster’s head in one hand and the knife in the other (its tied upsidedown) and cut its head off. (The person who showed me also showed me how to slit the bird’s throat, but if it were me, I’d rather someone cut my head off than slit my throat any day.) With the aid of a scalder and a plucker he went from something you would see in the pasture to something you would see in the oven in 10 minutes.
Even something a small as a rooster can feed you for several meals. The meat, of course, can be prepared any number of different ways. The fat can be rendered into a spread for bread or cooking called schmaltz. http://www.sadiesalome.com/recipes/schmaltz.html The heart and liver are okay as well. Sad to say, I can’t bring myself to eat the gizzard, but some people love them. I gave it to my cat. The bones can be made into stock for soups or stews. And all the bits that you can’t eat can be composted into fertilizer for the land.
I hope the rooster knows how much he was appreciated for everything he brought to the farm in his life and in his death.
about farm subsidies
I got this from the fabulous irresistible fleet of bicycles blog:
Incase you were wondering how much money each state gets in farm subsidies and how much the biggest farms get here it is, baby, with a graph to go along with it.
http://farm.ewg.org/
I've never heard of any of the top farms on the Vermont subsidy list.
Incase you were wondering how much money each state gets in farm subsidies and how much the biggest farms get here it is, baby, with a graph to go along with it.
http://farm.ewg.org/
I've never heard of any of the top farms on the Vermont subsidy list.
in the news
My horoscope this week was agriculturally related:
Taurus: Among the ancient Anglo-Saxons, the month of May was called "Thrimilce." The word referred to the fact that cows were so productive at this time of year that they could be milked three times a day. I thought of that as I studied your current astrological data, Taurus. During this year's Thrimilce, you are almost impossibly fertile and abundantly creative. My advice is to give generously, but not to the point of exhaustion: the equivalent of three times a day, but not four.
Also, I heard on the news about the Ice Saints, St. Mamertus, St. Pancras and St. Savertius, whose feast days fall on May 11th, 12th and 13th respectively. They are called the ice saints because apparently, it is common in Europe to have a cold snap during mid May (especially these 3 days). It has been particularly chilly the last few mornings here as well (although mercifully we haven't had any snow), so we are celebrating ice saints here in Vermont as well.
Taurus: Among the ancient Anglo-Saxons, the month of May was called "Thrimilce." The word referred to the fact that cows were so productive at this time of year that they could be milked three times a day. I thought of that as I studied your current astrological data, Taurus. During this year's Thrimilce, you are almost impossibly fertile and abundantly creative. My advice is to give generously, but not to the point of exhaustion: the equivalent of three times a day, but not four.
Also, I heard on the news about the Ice Saints, St. Mamertus, St. Pancras and St. Savertius, whose feast days fall on May 11th, 12th and 13th respectively. They are called the ice saints because apparently, it is common in Europe to have a cold snap during mid May (especially these 3 days). It has been particularly chilly the last few mornings here as well (although mercifully we haven't had any snow), so we are celebrating ice saints here in Vermont as well.
Friday, May 7, 2010
I saw one of the honeybees on a dandelion.
Exponential is a good term for spring.
Things start slow and sloping: tilling on a sunny warm day. Then prune the raspberries. Maybe another day you go check out the electric fence and see how it’s faring after the winter, admire the sprigs of green grass poking through. Wooh, start those seedlings, get them going, make sure you have the potatoes to plant, chickens are really laying a lot so wash the eggs, gosh, the grass is getting long now, did you ever get back to working on the fence? And the syrup, how is it selling, do we need to make more sugar? is the stand ready for the tourists who are starting to come? What!!! the baby chickens arecoming nextweek? Fuckhaveyoufixedthefencethere’snomorehay!!! and the peas need their trellis! Now you’re at the point of the curve where the amount of work starts to spike straight up. Descartes and your 9th grade algebra teacher would be proud.
But still, I like spring. I like finding all the little perennials returning. It seems amazing that anything domesticated survives in the ground over the course of the winter. I like when it starts to smell like growing in stead of always smelling like cold. I like watching the cows freak out over spring grass after a winter of hay. It’s a good time of year.
Things start slow and sloping: tilling on a sunny warm day. Then prune the raspberries. Maybe another day you go check out the electric fence and see how it’s faring after the winter, admire the sprigs of green grass poking through. Wooh, start those seedlings, get them going, make sure you have the potatoes to plant, chickens are really laying a lot so wash the eggs, gosh, the grass is getting long now, did you ever get back to working on the fence? And the syrup, how is it selling, do we need to make more sugar? is the stand ready for the tourists who are starting to come? What!!! the baby chickens arecoming nextweek? Fuckhaveyoufixedthefencethere’snomorehay!!! and the peas need their trellis! Now you’re at the point of the curve where the amount of work starts to spike straight up. Descartes and your 9th grade algebra teacher would be proud. But still, I like spring. I like finding all the little perennials returning. It seems amazing that anything domesticated survives in the ground over the course of the winter. I like when it starts to smell like growing in stead of always smelling like cold. I like watching the cows freak out over spring grass after a winter of hay. It’s a good time of year.
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