Number 16, Reprise

In honor of the Harvest Party, Stacy's first post on #16...

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June 13, 2010

On our way out to bring the horses in, we came across our neighbor, worming and tagging his new steers. He breeds most of his own, but these four he bought at the cattle auction---they are this year's calves, and one of them is completely wild. So we got to watch as he maneuvered them through the chute, gave them their shots, punched holes in their ears for the tags, and then let them out again, onto the knee-high grass.

The wild one gave some trouble, but Dale just stood back and looked until he figured out how to get it done. I know the feeling in his head, as he turned the puzzle pieces this way and that, taking his time, until he figured out how to get the wild one by himself in the chute. We've been doing a lot of this kind of physical problem-solving lately. Again and again, we learn that sometimes you just have to step back and think about it until it all clicks, and you see what to do.

Dale had brought one of his older steers in with these young ones, because 'he's a particularly docile and pleasant steer'. This is Number 16. Now, I've had my eye on 16 ever since we moved in, because I thought, 'Now THAT is a good-looking steer'. I have, apparently, learned to judge steers from Bill and Carl, because Dale also thinks he's a particularly good-looking steer. This is all so familiar to me, what he's doing over there. I recognize it. It's comforting to see someone farm the way I remember it from when I was small. I have a level of knowledge about this that goes down into my toes, because I learned it hanging around the barn when I was too small to know better than to eat raw soybeans.

So then, we were leaning over the fence, talking to Dale and Genevieve, and I got my order in for 1/2, possibly a whole beef, come fall butchering time. (A couple of friends have said they want to go in on it with us, so it's not as crazy as it sounds!) Dale raises his beef on pasture, without hormones, all the way to five weeks before butchering. Then he feeds them grain for a short time to tenderize them. Then he has the butcher come, right there, on his property, so the steers don't get scared or dragged or beaten. They never have time to panic or get upset. They just get quickly and efficiently killed and butchered into little packages for the freezer. Our neighbors make an event of it, betting on weights with lots of friends who come around to help or heckle, as the case may be.

This probably sounds weird, but I'm ok with watching my food grow up, then watching it be killed, and watching it be put in freezer packages---I know number 16 is living a good steer life, safe from injury, accident and predators. He is cared for and husbanded. I know Dale knows him personally, as an individual. That matters to me.

And I also know that my hamburger will come from one healthy animal, instead of thousands killed all on the same day in one of America's 17 (!!!!!) slaughterhouses, ground together with meat from Mexico, Argentina and New Zealand. It's a price I'm willing to pay for my food, to watch it grow, to learn to know it, to learn it's habits and it's personality. And in the end, to make it part of me. Oh, yeah, and to help my neighbor live the life he loves, which reminds me so strongly of the life someone I love has led.

It doesn't get any more local than this. I could be vegetarian instead, and I leaned that way for a while, when I first started learning about our 'modern' food system, and felt powerless to make any changes. But I don't think that meat is the problem. Dale and his cattle are not the problem. My flock of laying hens is not the problem. Factory farms are the problem, whether they are growing beef or tomatoes. There are worse things in the world than death, and many of them can be found at feedlots, slaughterhouses and factory farms.

So I'll buy number 16. And every time I have beef, I'll think of his black coat glistening in the sun, and his contented munching on grass up to his belly, and his chasing the labrador, who gets just a little too close sometimes. And I'll be a little thoughtful, but not upset. Because I value the life my neighbor and Bill and Carl choose to live. My time on the farm when I was a kid taught me that there's value in living a good life, and there's value in sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifice comes in the middle, as it does for most people. And sometimes it comes at the end, as it does for some people, (soldiers especially come to mind), and all of our food animals. Sacrifice comes. And there is worse to make of it than a plate of ribs shared with friends for Derby Day. Or a hamburger cookout with family on the Fourth of July. Or even just a good home-cooked meal after a hard day of putting up fence in the rain and the wind and the cold---fence to protect these steers or their kin.

Number 16. Now THAT's a good-looking steer.

Bellwether Farm: Number 16

Bellwether Farm: Number 16: "Tonight, I ate a heart that was ticking less than 12 hours ago, cooked in a stew with broth made from a tail that was twitching less than 12..."

We did it...

...and I had record this for posterity. We are five months into our five year plan, and, well, we're four years and seven months ahead of schedule.

Last January, S and I made a plan to move to a small farm, to bring the horses home. We planned to grow our chicken flock, get some more area for the garden, and start being a little more self sufficient, produce more of our own stuff. We gave ourselves five years to find a place, build the barn, and start our own small farm.

Since April 1, we've:

1. Moved to the new house

2. Deconstructed the property, stripping it down to bare pasture and a shell of a barn

3. Rebuilt the barn

4. Installed a riding arena

5. Put in proper horse paddocks

6. Designed and outfitted a *very* safe and pleasant horse barn, complete with tack room

7. Fenced in the front for the dogs

8. Learned to manage a small pasture

9. Canned and preserved a lot of the neighbor's garden (with consent!)

10. Secured hay for winter

11. Saved enough money to pay our property taxes

At this point, our new place is ready for a winter over. Yes, we still need to do a couple of minor things - buy the neighbor's cow, put up shavings for the winter, get a freezer, buy a snow plow for the ATV, etc. I'm sure the list goes on and on.

But at the moment, we can sit here with our heads above water and look at the results of what happens when you start out on your five year plan.

You just might finish a bit early....

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.." - Bilbo Baggins

Before and after...

Google Maps has updated the imagery of our new house since we've moved in. I'm excited because it documents a pivotal moment in our lives, and shows how much hard work we have put into the farm in such a short period of time. I am also excited because I can pinpoint, to nearly the day, when this image was taken (something like 1 pm, June 16, 2010), because:

1. Our friend's truck is in the driveway (which we borrowed after the June 2 high altitude balloon launch, when our truck broke down).
2. The arena is finished and the fences are all up, T and MM are in the paddocks, but there's no sign of Maisy and Harley, so it had to be before June 18.
3. We're holding on to the dressage stuff after the Chicken Event and prior to the Golden Spike Event on the weekend of June 19.

So, who needs family snapshots any more? Maybe I should check streetview and see if we have some shots of us drinking beer with the neighbors. Speaking of which, there are some cool things to notice in these images:

1. You can actually see the horses in the fields, and you can tell which is which (Music is the paint).
2. You can see both dogs running north of the paddocks, and you can tell which is which (Captain is the beefy, slow one)
3. You can see the old chicken coop (we just built a new one last week, keep up Google!)
4. I am pretty sure you can see us sharing a beer with the neighbor under the tree just west of the chickens. Don't worry, Utah DABC - note shadows of the trees, it is after noon!

You should all run off and check Google Maps to see if they are documenting any changes you've been making recently. If not, request a flyover!

The move begins...

For the last several weeks, I've been focused on a pile of poo. Raccoon poo, to be exact. And today I got to throw it in the garbage. It was a good day.

This particular pile of poo was resting atop a stack of straw, sitting in a barn on a farm we didn't own until today. Perfectly good straw, if you could look past that pile of poo. And, in case I forgot to mention it, today I got to throw away the pile of poo and liberate the pile of usable straw underneath it. I moved the straw across our new barn, I stacked it neatly, and threw away the poo.

I think this was a beachhead on the new property. Our farm. I find this a little overwhelming, because we've been talking about this for a long time. And here it is, we are doing it. And it is a lot of work. But good work. They type of work that makes water taste like wine (and wine taste like whiskey).

It is also the type of experience that makes me realize I can't control everything. The dogs will chase horses, a cat will fly out of the moldy, raccoon-poo-covered straw right into your face, and you will scream like a girl when that happens, I'm here to tell you.

But we made the beachhead. Straw as been moved, hay pallets laid, shavings stacked. The dogs are covered in horse manure, mud, and more horse manure. The truck is loaded with dusty, moldy caste-offs left by the previous owners. Tomorrow we'll take several loads to the dump. Tomorrow the dogs will chase the horses and bark at the neighbors cows. Tomorrow we'll clean up and fix and untie and build. Always, tomorrow there will be more.

And we have it now. We are sailing out of the shallows. Finally!

The first harvest

The radishes are the first up! These were practically jumping out of
the ground.

Name that pup!!

We are taking suggestions for the new one.