Week One: please don't die, please don't escape
I've spent my entire life living in cities/suburbia, so besides helping my mom with a summer garden I have ZERO farming experience. The most exotic pet we ever had was a greyhound. After my cross country bicycle trip last summer I've been completely, and almost obsessively, focussed on doing things the old way. It started out simple, like baking bread and making yogurt. Before I knew it I was reading instruction manuals on shoe making. I just really wanted to be more knowledgeable. After reading, researching, and asking a million questions I decided to take the "full immersion" approach. I want to work on a farm.
I chose Whitmore farm for lots of reasons but the main reason was that they do things the old way. All of their animals are pasture raised, grass fed, happy, roaming, and curious. The animals get to be animals. More on this later.
Week one: I naively thought that they would ease me into things, demonstrate everything first, maybe we'll review the safety manual, etc. Not quite. On day one I drove the tractor (yes, I'm being careful). Day two I was shocked by an electric fence (promise, I'm being careful). And on day three they left me completely alone on the farm - just me and all the animals. As queen of the farm my mantra that day was "please don't die, please don't escape". No one died, no one escaped.
I was first trained to do "the rounds", this is basically just tending to all the animals: making sure everyone is fed, looking healthy, and still alive. This takes me all day. During my first day of rounds I learned to wring a chicken's neck - I never want to do this again. It is my new goal to actively avoid this chore. Later in the week one of our lovely pregnant lady pigs had a big litter of piglets. My job was to walk the entire pasture, look for the placenta, and bury it. I found the placenta along with a stillborn piglet. It was sad, and gross, and the worst thing I've ever smelled.
After my first week here I'm covered in scratches, bites, and bruises and the dirt under my nails seems permanent. I'm exhausted. Who knew farming was so hard.
I chose Whitmore farm for lots of reasons but the main reason was that they do things the old way. All of their animals are pasture raised, grass fed, happy, roaming, and curious. The animals get to be animals. More on this later.
Week one: I naively thought that they would ease me into things, demonstrate everything first, maybe we'll review the safety manual, etc. Not quite. On day one I drove the tractor (yes, I'm being careful). Day two I was shocked by an electric fence (promise, I'm being careful). And on day three they left me completely alone on the farm - just me and all the animals. As queen of the farm my mantra that day was "please don't die, please don't escape". No one died, no one escaped.
I was first trained to do "the rounds", this is basically just tending to all the animals: making sure everyone is fed, looking healthy, and still alive. This takes me all day. During my first day of rounds I learned to wring a chicken's neck - I never want to do this again. It is my new goal to actively avoid this chore. Later in the week one of our lovely pregnant lady pigs had a big litter of piglets. My job was to walk the entire pasture, look for the placenta, and bury it. I found the placenta along with a stillborn piglet. It was sad, and gross, and the worst thing I've ever smelled.
After my first week here I'm covered in scratches, bites, and bruises and the dirt under my nails seems permanent. I'm exhausted. Who knew farming was so hard.
Comments
Post a Comment