A Shity Situation

Cows can be spiteful bitches. Everyday is the same routine in from the field and into the barn for milking. Some have got it down so well they even walk themselves into the same stall everyday and just let us do our thing. Others however, take a little more coaxing. If something pisses them off they just plug themselves up and stand there, just staring at us with their big glassy eyes as if to say "you can squeeze all you want bitch, I ain't lettin it go. " And then once we do get them to release they wait for us to get right down under them and then let everything else loose. I swear one of them was either practicing her "Kegels" or actually waiting for me to get close so she could continue to piss all over the place then stop and wait for me to get back down. 

Yesterday I got it the worst yet. The culprit was Daisy, a cow who for lack of a better word is a pretty pitiful creature. She's dwarfed and stands just about four feet tall and only has one eye. I have no idea what happened to the other one; I can only assume a horn was involved. but despite her petite one eyed stature she has quite the attitude. She only likes to be milked in the last stall and if it takes too long to get to her she decides to turn herself around and just fuck everything up basically. So as it turned out, it was taking a bit longer than usual to get to her and she ended up twisting herself around, while her head was locked between two iron beams, a fete I sure did not expect from cycowclopes.  So I left the perfectly behaving cow I was working on to go turn her ass around when I made a mistake I will never repeat. I stepped behind her to push her back around and gave her a good push and a giddy-up and she responded with a good push from the gut and half gallon of shit all over me.

Lucky for me (if there is any in getting poo-ed on) I have come to be very comfortable with the poop. It's now just an everyday occurrence. I wake up accept that I will be covered in poop today and there is nothing I can do about it. 

The big turn of events that led to this realization involved a lost calf with some bum legs. When a cow has a sick or injured calf they refuse to raise in some form of cruel darwinian theory. One of the calves born recently we discovered has an issue digesting the salinity in the ground which affected the functioning of her back legs. So we helped her out with a few remedies to put things in order. Unfortunately, her Mom isn't buying it and has been neglecting and denying her milk. 

There is nothing more heart breaking than watching a calf get kicked in the face repeatedly by it's Mother when trying to feed from her. I was about to show that cow a piece of my mind when we too used are own darwinian theory and clamped her thighs together so her daughter could drink all the milk she wanted, take that you bovine bitch. Unfortunately by the time Selene, the calf, had finally gotten to eat she had fallen so many time she was covered in her Mom's shit, which I feel just added insult to injury. 

Later when all the cows were released to the field mom took off without Selene. The poor thing just stood in the rain crying too the wind. I couldn't allow myself to accept leaving her and a I knew she wouldn't get back on her own with her legs not fully recovered. So I walked up to her and as I did she came up between my legs and starting nuzzling around crying and trying to find an udder. And then it happened, that hormonal "Hulk" metamorphosis  that occurs when a mother's child is in pain. This cow thought I was her momma and I had to save her. Suddenly I felt a burst of energy and I picked her mud and crap covered body up over my head and around my shoulder and carried her out to the field. (I hadn't realized at the time the cows had been moved to the farthest pasture). I got her out there and then felt like a Mom at the first day of school. I watched her head off into the field,  shooing her along when she looked back telling her "everything is gonna be alright," hoping for the best. 

I found out today Selene walked to the barn the whole way this morning and her mother let her drink without hesitation. It's the little things in life that keep us going. It seems everyone has one cow they share a special connection with, and I've found my special connection in that little wobbly legged calf.  

Cattle and chickens and... roosters fucking ducks? OH MY!

So... I over packed. Not necessarily my fault though. I found out, upon my arrival, that I will be sharing a room for a few weeks. My roommate also shares my name and got here first so in order to avoid confusion I will from now on be referred to as "Dunlea" on the farm. 

I got to the farm around 2-ish after a few little turn arounds and stops for directions (map-quest is a viscous lie!). I arrived just in time for lunch the menu was roasted pork fresh from the farm and wild rice with peasant loaf bread and gooey cheese both from the farm. It was delicious. 

After lunch it was straight to work. It was time to feed the pigs, a job that involves much more upper body strength and wit that I expected. The pigs only really see people when they are fed so they have developed this Pavlov's dog reaction every time they see someone wander up to them, and the last thing you want to be between is a hungry pig and a loaf of bread. 

In full farm tradition the pigs get the scraps, which in this case is day old artisan bread and fresh whey from cheese production (lucky ass pigs). The trick to feeding is to divert the pigs by throwing frisbees of focaccia in the opposite direction of the feed troff so you can pour the 15 gallons of whey without getting tossed in shit. About ten minutes in I was covered in whey and drenched in sweat. (I'm hoping the slave labor will work like an aerobics routine and I'll be shredded by august)

After surviving the pigs it was off to wash the whey containers and prepare for cheese production. As we walked back a duck came running past us for it's dear life from a rather robust rooster. The rooster caught the duck in some low brush and... this is where things got weird ... held the duck by it's neck with it's beak and displayed why we so appropriately refer to them as well as "cocks". This Rooster was letting this poor duck have it. I felt so helpless, two hours on the farm and my first sexual assault! I know I'm supposed to let nature take it's course but what the fuck it's natural about a rooster raping a duck? Eventually the rooster finished his deed and the violated poultry was left shamefully in the brush. I still can't look the rooster in the eye. 

Cheese production was very educational and exciting. We made blue cheeses in the style of the Visigoths. There is something about making medieval blue cheese that just makes you're day seem truly worth while. 

After molding curds it was time to clean up a different type of curd. Yes it was time to literally shovel shit. My partner was one of the other farm assistants. She is a very lovely soft spoken girl from France. She may not actually be soft spoken but the most french I know is saute and souffle and she is here to learn english so there was a lot of non verbal communication. It worked out though because when shoveling shit you really want to open your mouth as little as possible. 

My partner clearly had done this job before and I realized she had the upper hand. She immediately went for the newer shovel and the side of the barn higher than the other. Suddenly I found myself with a shovel two scoops away from breaking and a pool of piss flowing from the high ground. I started out strong and then "Crack!" the shovel broke. My partner looked and smiled innocently, I know she saw it coming. Then it started to get to me, with each scoop a new waft of ammonia and methane hit me. There was no way of escaping. I was living in an episode of "Dirty Jobs" and I was only half way done!

Now I'm not sure really how I feel about this but eventually I just got used to the smell of cow shit. Sure every so often a rather robust whiff got to me, but my lack of a gag reflex really proved itself useful in more ways than I thought.  

After scooping the pooping the day had come to an end and the apprentices we released to the farm hows. Finally I got to unpack! Dinner was a special occasion. not only was it a welcome celebration to the knew assistants but it was as well the birthday party for one of the older farm assistants. We grilled up some skirts steaks from our very own cows and drank home made beer. We ate outside under an ancient tree. Dinner carried on long after the sun had set behind us and the clouds illuminated with soft pale light. Fireflies appeared all around us and the night ended with the singing of folk songs and sharing of stories. A night I will always remember. 

My Agri-Adventure

Tomorrow is the big day. Ten hours away from starting my year long apprenticeship at Bobolink Dairy Farm and I'm a little concerned I over packed. I know two bags worth of bedding may seem a bit over the top, but I really feel a feather bed and down comforter are going to come in handy. What do you bring to a farm anyway? there has to be more than overalls and boots.

Eight months ago I returned to Culinary School with no idea what the hell I want to do with my life. Now I'm still scared shitless of what's to come, but I've at least found a direction to start in. While taking a food ecology course I visited a little dairy farm that is the picture of pastoral peace. 100 Heritage breed cows grazing the land, about a dozen chickens, and a few massive pigs all supporting each other and nature. The air is so thick with life you feel full after yawning, and honestly the cow shit smell goes away after like 5 minutes. From the moment I stepped off the bus I knew I wanted to work there. So now after a few months of planning and applying I've scored an apprenticeship for a year. I'll be working the land, living off what I can raise, and making some really tasty cheese. 

When I tell people that I've just graduated with a Bachelor's Degree from Culinary School and I'm now going to work on a farm their initial response is a very supportive "Oh that's great" followed by a very concerned "... and why?" Yes I know it's hard to believe that someone who was once drama club president now wants to spend a year ankle deep in cow shit, and trust me I've heard all the milking and udder jokes out there by now. But the truth is that in my four years of culinary school I've learned that we all need a closer connection to food. That to truly be passionate about what I cook I can't be ignorant of its origins. So many people today don't realize how important eating is. We are what we eat and so much of what we eat is unhealthy. So I hope that with this blog I can bring people a little closer to some healthy sustainable sources of food. I want to share my experience of a year on a farm and all the weird wacky mishaps that are sure to arise. 

So follow me if you like and please understand, this is my first blogging experience so be patient. Pictures and videos will come a bit later on, but for now I'm proud of my self that you are able to reading this much.  

Fun food fact #1 - Cows have four stomachs