Maybe I’ll Become a Farmer

A farmer friend of Leslie’s raises chickens. She stopped over at the Common Ground produce stand at the Saturday Farmer’s Market and chatted about how she would need help with another group of chickens. I knew before it was explained just what kind of help was needed. The first day I arrived at the farm we had soup with a little left over chicken in it- the chicken being the exchange for Franck’s help. He had assisted in capturing the chickens when they were sleeping, loading them on to the truck, and then delivering them to their destination, their final destination as Leslie said. So as I ate the soup I thought it was good that the chicken had been raised more naturally than at a factory farm, but outside of that I didn’t give it too much thought.

Well, Franck left on a bus to Memphis before the next chicken harvest. So it was down to me, or Josef—a vegan, to be the next assistant. I hoped I wouldn’t be asked directly about it- that I could just not volunteer to do it. Even though I eat chicken, the living chicken seemed much different from the meat on a bun. I thought, well, I could physically lift the chicken fine. And it’s not like I would actually have to butcher it, like my dad talks about doing on his family’s farm and seeing it run around without it’s head. But the idea of the chicken sleeping… I just had an aversion to it.  And then I thought, if I can’t help in making the chicken into food, maybe I shouldn’t be eating it. So when Leslie did directly ask me, I had given it enough thought to say, I think I’ll pass. And I guess I’ll just have to remember this feeling the next time I see a tempting sounding chicken dish on a menu. 

(Maybe I’m just chicken. An informal survey of a few friends found that they could have in fact helped in this task— not that surprising considering one respondent’s deep love of chicken strips.)

While on the topic of animals, here are a few of the creatures at Common Ground Farm.

     

The lambs graze.

A monarch flutters on the path that leads to the lamb's pasture.

When not resting, Aspen, along with Buster and Levi, work to keep the deer away.

The other thing that helps to keep the deer away are these pie pans tied to the stakes. In the wind, they clack against the poles and help to deter four-legged visitors.

 

 

Yesterday we visited an organic dairy farm.  Spring Creek Farm, about a two- hour drive from our location near State College, PA, had a Pasture Walk for visitors to come check out their operation.  We arrived at 6:30 p.m., a half an hour after the start of the tour. At the end of the farm’s long driveway the logo for Horizon Dairy greeted us. I’m familiar with the logo from seeing it at the grocery store. Spring Creek Farm’s milk is processed with other milk from organic dairies and sold as organic milk, cheese, and yogurt.

Since we arrived a little late, we had to catch up with the rest of the group. We strolled back down the long gravel driveway and then shimmied under the barbwire fence and headed across the cow’s pasture. As we came traipsing over the hill, the cows came into view. They soon lined up in the adjacent grass paddock to see what was going on. The tractor with the tour group then arrived on the nearby road. About 40 or so people, around half of them Amish or Mennonite sat on the bales of hay inside the tractor.

The farmer, Forrest Stricker, stopped the tractor and hopped out to explain some things about his operation. He said the cows produce milk for ten months and then are dry for two. As he spoke, another tractor came down the hill, unrolling bales of hay for the cows to munch on. In addition to grazing on the grass, the farm supplements the cows’ diet with extra hay.  The cows are artificially inseminated in May or June but they also keep a bull in the group as a back up. For the cows to produce milk, every season they repeat the cycle of getting pregnant, having a calf, and then producing milk. This cycle is called a lactation. Organic dairy farms are able to keep their cows for up to eight years, or lactations, whereas conventional dairy farms only use their cows for a couple.

As the cows munched away on the hay, we headed off up the hill to see another part of the farm. (Since the tractor was full of people, we hopped on the back of a little cart. I found out from the two young boys sitting with us that we had only missed seeing the calves during the first part of the tour).  We zipped up another gravel roadway as the sun began to melt into shades of orange and pink behind the green hills. Arriving a few minutes later at another pasture area, the farmer explained about the alfalfa growing there. At first, I had no idea why he was talking about alfalfa. All I knew of it was that it was the name of one of the Little Rascals. But apparently the cows also graze on pastures of alfalfa, in addition to the grass. He spoke very technically about the about of nutrients in the alfalfa and how this translates to the cows. A few Amish farmers stood down in the low growing green looking on very intently during his explanation.

After a while we all climbed back up into our respective modes of transportation and drove down to the barn. Inside they had set up a small reception with Horizon products. We snacked on string cheese and yogurt, and drank milk from little boxes like I remember drinking juice from. The milk came in chocolate and strawberry flavors in addition to regular. I enjoyed my strawberry milk and cheese combo and tried to eavesdrop on the conversation of the Amish men sitting on a nearby bale of hale (they talked mostly about farming techniques and animals). Soon we headed out away from the light of the barn and came under the light from the blanket of stars.

As we drove away from the farm we passed another dairy operation. The light from inside that barn illuminated cows standing up inside corrals. Leslie mentioned that those cows, part of a conventional dairy, would never go outside. They are fed grains inside. They looked trapped. It made me sad to see them and think of their lives versus the Stricker’s cows that spend their days roaming about the hills. Seeing those cows gave me another reason for paying a little extra for organic dairy products like Horizon’s.

The Sunday morning meal at the farm

Josef, a fellow WWOOFer from Sweden, whipped up a mouth-watering farm breakfast this Sunday morning. And despite appearances, it included no meat or dairy. The roasted potatoes (beauties recently dug) had a coating of oil, rosemary, and other spices. They baked in the oven on a fairly high heat until perfectly crisp. The tofu scramble included onions and peppers from the garden. The yellow color, which made it appear egg-like, came from the addition of turmeric. Tempeh browned with spices in a frying pan added a sausage-like feel to the meal. And last, the crisp apples came from another farmer at the Saturday Farmer’s Market.   

A row of potato plants

The last couple of days we’ve been digging potatoes. I can’t remember ever seeing a potato plant before. They’re quite weedy looking. Their low growing green leaves spread every which way and blend in with the real weeds that have snuck in. They’re sort of tricky- they don’t easily give away their secret that treasures grow below. Digging for potatoes is pretty straightforward. Using a flat pitchfork (as opposed to a round kind that could more easily pierce the orbs) you just dig in front of the plant and voila, golden treasures shine through against the brown earth. Though it’s a bit tiring to dig, the satisfaction in unearthing a bounty of golden nuggets definitely makes up for it. And what could be better after a day of digging potatoes than enjoying them nestled along side onions in an au gratin casserole? 

I’m a bit tired. I put on my work gloves and began harvesting squash soon after my arrival Monday afternoon. My drive here had taken me out from under the shadow of New York City skyscrapers, past the industrial landscape stretching from Jersey City and then into the rolling green hills of western New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Soon the rolling hills became more mountainous, with the highway curving around rivers below.

So after the four-hour drive to Spring Mills, PA, I drove up the dirt road to Common Ground farm. Leslie, the owner of the farm, helped me carry my bags up to my room.  Shortly thereafter the squash harvesting commenced.  Luckily I had my new work gloves to keep my fingers free from the prickly stems of the pumpkins. My French farm comrade Franck (who is called Frank here) and I pulled and clipped the gourds from the vines. After filling the large wheelbarrow we laid the squash out on wooden flats on the back porch to dry.  They’ll be sold at the farmers market on Saturday.

Our next task was to plant lettuce and kale. Leslie had marked rows in the dirt where the seedlings, started in the greenhouse in late July, should be planted. I didn’t realize these could be planted this time of year. But they should be able to be harvested in October.  I was able to put my planting skills gained from a summer working in the parks department in Portage, MI to work.  That summer I had helped plant hundreds of annual flowers along Library Lane and around City Hall. The technique of digging several holes, then placing the plants in the holes, then covering worked quite well with lettuce also. Dig, dig, dig, dig, place, place, place, place, cover, cover, cover, cover. I have to say, my technique did put me ahead of Franck. But that only meant more rows to plant.

After a few hours of work we got dinner ready. Leslie made a delicious soup with potatoes, squash, and kale. We also enjoyed a salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers. At one point in the kitchen I swept the wooden floors. I felt like maybe I should have been wearing a long skirt and bonnet. And I kind of liked that.