The Disconnect

Have you ever finished doing something, taken a moment to feel proud of your accomplishment, and then realized, "oh shoot...I'm not done"?  I just did that.  I wrote out a whole long blog post, posted it to Facebook, and then realized that I left out a huge part of it.  Maybe it's okay that I did, though.  The part I left out is pretty long and that post was already getting to be too long to hold people's attention .  As a result of my mental fumble, this new post will cover what I left out of the other post.

In the previous blog post, I discussed social license and the fact that the general public just doesn't know a whole lot about agriculture.  What I forgot to say is that this lack of knowledge isn't your fault.

Today, only about 2% of Canada's population works in the agriculture industry.  Just one short century ago, agriculture employed a far greater portion of the population.  People who grew up in towns and cities knew people - friends and relatives - who lived and worked on farms.  They knew where their food came from.  Today the amount of people growing up in towns and cities who personally know farmers is much smaller.  There is a disconnect between the people who grow the food and the people who eat the food.  Because of this lack of personal connection, people just don't know how their food is produced.  For example, I have a cousin who, for many years, thought that potatoes came from a can, and when she first saw her mother peel a potato, she didn't know what it was (for the record, this was before my cousin spent time on a farm).  My cousin isn't stupid, and neither are the other people who don't know where their food comes from.

People are just ignorant.  Now that I've typed those words, they seem awfully harsh to me.  What does ignorant mean?  Let me check the dictionary: "ignorant adj. 1a. lacking knowledge or experience. b. (foll. by of, in) uninformed (about a fact, subject)" (Oxford Canadian Dictionary of Current English, 2005).  That's not so bad.  It just means that ignorant people don't know.  In fact, I think it's good for one to know if one is ignorant.  If I know that I'm ignorant about a subject, I can work on learning about it.  That's a good thing!

My earlier blog post focused on how people should go about learning more about agriculture.  I'd like to use this blog post to further discuss that topic.  People growing up in cities don't know where their food comes from because they don't personally know farmers.  Therefore, they have a hard time getting first-hand information about their food.  Now, before I go any further, I'd like to say that I am not advocating for the local food movement.  If you want to only buy food from local producers, be my guest.  But I raise beef and beef is a major export for Canada, so I rather like it when people don't exclusively buy local (although I also really like selling beef to nearby family and friends).

To get back on topic, if you want to learn more about where your food comes from, talk to a farmer.  If you don't know a farmer, ask someone who does to introduce you to their farmer friend.  Farmers aren't so rare that you can't find us.  You just might have to look further than your regular circle of friends.  Talk to people with farmer relatives.  Talk to college students you know, because they have probably met a farm kid at school (farm kids need an education, too, you know).  If all else fails, go to a farmer's market and talk to the people there (just be aware that they are probably big fans of the buy local movement, and maybe of the organic craze, too).  Whoever you find to talk to, remember that we all have a bit of an agenda, whether we know it or not: we want you to like us.  Ask sincere questions.  Ask about the things that worry you.  Ask about the latest food marketing strategies.  Talk to more than one expert (refer back to the earlier blog post).  Do not rely solely on what you see and hear on the media and from other uninformed persons.  In short, if you choose to educate yourself about the agriculture industry, make sure you get a well-rounded education.

It is possible to overcome the disconnect between producer and consumer, but it will take a bit of effort from both sides and a genuine interest in each other to close the gap.

Ask An Expert

This post is written mainly for my friends who are unfamiliar with the agriculture industry.  Please feel free to ask me or any farmer you know any questions you have about what you read here.  Also, any farm friends who have comments are more than welcome to make them.

Today, like many days, I decided to take a few moments to ignore my self-assigned tasks for the day and check out the Facebook world.  One of my Facebook friends posted a video about the dairy industry.  I had seen this video posted one or two other times, but had never actually watched it.  I have better things to do with my time than watch every single video posted by my Facebook friends.  However, I wasn't quite ready to return to my work, so I clicked on the link and watched with disgust as some YouTuber I had never heard of painted the dairy industry in the worst possible light imaginable.  I'm no expert on the dairy industry, but I know enough to know that this girl was obviously not giving a balanced representation of the industry.  I told my Facebook friend that if she wanted to eliminate dairy from her diet, that's her choice, but she should ask an actual dairy farmer about how the industry works.

It turns out that my friend has her own reasons to take dairy out of her diet.  Fine, whatever.  It's none of my business to tell anyone how or what they should or should not eat.  I don't have a problem with anyone's personal choice of diet.  However, I do have a problem with people sharing these random videos, blogs, etc. that tear down industries, ways of life, diet choices, traditions - anything really - without checking to see if person who made the video or wrote the blog actually got their facts right.  Just to be fair, I did a bit of research on the YouTuber before I got down to writing this blog post.  She describes herself as a vegan and an activist, among other things.  I don't know exactly what kind of activist she would call herself, but she seems to be pretty involved in animal rights activism.  She also appears to have absolutely no background in agriculture.  She may be well informed about some things, but she is definitely not an expert about agriculture.

So if you have questions about the dairy industry, who should you ask?  Ask a dairy farmer, of course!  Oh but, wait.  Dairy farmers have a product to sell.  Of course they would never reveal the truth about the less acceptable parts of dairy farming.  They want us to believe that the dairy industry is all sunshine and roses so that we buy their products, right?  Well to be completely honest, I don't know.  Some farmers likely would want to tell just the good sides of the story.  All farmers (all humans, actually) are likely to get defensive if you present them with a bunch of accusations and ask them to prove themselves worthy of basic levels of respect.  If you really want to know what farming is all about, though, and if you are willing to accept that every industry has areas where it could and should improve, then ask a farmer.  If you have questions about the dairy industry, ask a dairy farmer.  If you have questions about the beef industry, ask a cow-calf producer or a backgrounder or a feedlot operator.  If you want to know about the egg industry, or the poultry industry, or the cereal grains industry, ask an expert from that industry.  Most farmers will welcome sincere questions.

Why do farmers welcome questions, though?  You would think that as busy as we are, we wouldn't have time to answer a bunch of questions from people who know little about the industry.  Well, that isn't the case.  Our interest in your questions has to do with a little thing called social license.  In simple terms, social license is an abstract social construct that allows consumers to dictate how producers produce their products.  So, if consumers all want farm animals to be treated properly, farmers have to take a look at how they treat their animals, check how consumers want the animals to be treated, and then work to get their practices in line with what consumers want.  There's just one BIG problem with that.  Consumers aren't experts.  In fact, many consumers have no clue what they're talking about.  They don't even know how farm animals actually are treated and if they do, they don't know the reasons behind the methods.

Farmers are experts in their fields.  A dairy farmer knows how to produce milk as efficiently as possible.  He also knows how to keep his cows as healthy as possible.  He knows exactly how and what to feed them to give them exactly the nutrition that they need at different stages of their life.  If something does go wrong, he knows how to figure out what is wrong and how to treat it (or if he needs to call the vet).  Unfortunately, as I mentioned, the general public doesn't have all of this knowledge.  All they know is what they see, most of which comes from social media and illustrates the actions of a few grossly negligent and irresponsible people (to put it nicely).  But since that is what the public sees, that is reality for the public and so they are shocked and horrified (rightly so in many cases) and demand that all farmers suddenly do a lot better.  This is where social license comes in.  The farmers, who have been working hard all year to produce the food that people need for basic survival, come home to rest for a few moments and suddenly find out that they are evil people who have no idea what animals really need (or just don't care) and have no regard for the environment AND are pumping us all full of chemicals and GMOs (which actually aren't bad - but that's another blog post).  Since this farmer, who is actually a decent human being, needs to feed his family, he still needs to sell his product, but he knows that the public won't accept it unless he changes his ways to fit their idea of acceptable, even though he knows far more than the general public about how to care for livestock, soil, water, etc.  Do you see the difficulty?

I wish I could explain this all better, but this post is getting a lot longer than I intended it to be.  I also know that I have just brought up a whole host of issues that cannot all be dealt with in this post (or even in this blog).  If you take away nothing else from this post, remember this: If you have questions, or if you are presented with information that upsets you, ask an expert.  An expert is not someone who does a bunch of research.  An expert is someone who does the work, who lives the life, who knows the industry.  If your questions have to do with agriculture, the expert is a farmer.  

I hope I was not disrespectful in this post.  I tend to get a bit irritable when people don't check their facts.  Now if you'll excuse me, I really should get back to that work I've been avoiding...

My dad is an expert fence-builder, among other things.  That comes from 40+ years of working and living as a farmer.  Not even my formal education can help me keep up with his knowledge.

Strength

Today I tested my strength.  I've been in school for four months.  My summer muscles have gone the way of my callouses, just as they do every school year.  But now it's Christmas break and I get to help Dad with chores.  I helped one other day last week, but that was mainly driving the tractor.  Today I actually worked.

Usually I help out more over Christmas, but this year I hadn't been feeling well for about two months (it turns out I have bronchitis), so I've been taking it easy.  Today, though, I was raring to go!  Chores started with feeding grain, as per usual.  We aren't a big operation, so we feed by hand (well, actually it's by bucket).  After the first two pails full of grain, I wasn't too sure I'd make it through chores, but I pushed on, trying not to think about how much strength I've lost in the last little while.  After feeding the grain, Dad and I fed a double portion of straw and hay to the cows so we would have fewer chores tomorrow.  My skills with the bale fork on the tractor are a bit rusty, but other than that I managed to get through with my pride intact.  When we'd finally finished up with all of that, we drove into the bush and cut some firewood for our Boxing Day get-together with Dad's family.  Dad cut an old tree up and I hauled the wood to the Ranger.  By then it was time for lunch.

Over lunch Dad talked about all he had to do yet today.  When he mentioned chopping the firewood and loading it on the truck, I said I could do that.  I've done it before, after all.  So after lunch I put my warm clothes back on and got down to work chopping the wood.  I was a bit apprehensive to start.  In years past, it has taken me a ridiculous amount of effort to get a few chewed-up, slivery blocks of firewood.  I expected I'd wind myself pretty fast and have to let Dad finish up.  That didn't happen, though.  This year I somehow found the right technique, that perfect swing of the axe that sends the two halves of the wood flying out to either side, split perfectly in the center.  Who knew it was so easy?!  But I digress...

Why is it so important for me to be able to do these things on my own?  Why do I have measure my strength each Christmas break to see how much I've lost while I've been in school?  I've always been a  very proud person (and I know that's not a good thing), and for most of my life I've been able to take pride in the fact that I can work past people's expectations of me.  Having been born with certain physical limitations, I was always working to keep up with the other kids and I was generally pretty successful at that.  It wasn't even all that difficult, especially as I got older.  Soon I developed a competitive spirit that drove me to want to be one of the best at everything.  Of course, no one can be the best at everything, but I still took pride in at least being able to keep up with those around me.  To this day, without even really thinking of what I'm doing, I always expect myself to keep up with the people around me.  Unfortunately, these days my companions tend to be grown men who are used to working year-round on the farm and I forget that they just are stronger than I am.  Sometimes I think I would work myself into delirium if no one noticed and stopped me.  I remember some friends of mine almost prying a shop broom out of my hands and telling me to stop after we'd cleaned out a barn once.  I was just trying to keep up with the boys.

It's a terrible thing to take pride in physical strength.  It makes me keep going long after I really ought to quit.  When I lose my strength, I push myself even harder, trying to prove, even if only to myself, that I still have what it takes to farm.  Worst of all, looking to myself for strength takes my focus off of God, who is the source of my strength, both physically and emotionally.  Psalm 46:1 says, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble" (ESV).  I ought to remember that before I get myself into trouble by relying on my own strength.

When I was born, my dad named me Valerie, which means "strong one," because he knew I would need to be strong to fight my way through the difficult days ahead.  I made it through, but not on my own strength.  I made it through because God gave me His strength and I will continue to make my way through life with God's help, and not on my own strength.

Dear Premier Notley: Thank-You

Dear Premier Notley,

I did not vote for your party.  I hoped our provincial government would look different than it does, but this is the way it is.  Since the provincial election earlier this year, you've been rather busy.  At first it seemed like everyone was just holding their breath, waiting for the results of the federal election.  Now that that's been settled, our provincial government has gotten down to work.  

I have a wee confession to make: I don't pay a lot of attention to what goes on in the world.  Oh, I hear about the big stuff eventually, but I don't actively search out news sources.  Because of that, Bill 6 almost slipped passed my attention.  Almost.

A couple of weeks ago I was scrolling through Facebook during a break from homework and came across an article about Bill 6.  The sight that published the article was clearly anti-NDP and the writer was practically frothing at the mouth in outrage.  Being a conscientious researcher, I started checking out other sources to see if the outrage was warranted.  I checked mainstream media sources, government documents, and I read opinions from other farmers, like myself, who had made their views public.  Slowly, but surely, I began to put the picture together.  It was not a pleasant picture.

As I learned more, I began making my views public, too.  I did my best, however, to always try to see both sides of the issue.  I guess I learned that from writing so many papers in my previous post-secondary experience.  I never want to be one of those people who has only one view on complex, multi-faceted issues.  Blind outrage is never an appropriate reaction to a threat.

With time, I saw farmers mobilizing and protesting across the province.  I must say Premier, you either picked a really bad time of the year to push this bill through, or you knew exactly what you were doing and actually wanted to do it at a time when farmers have little to do besides doing chores and getting up to date on political issues.  This is the part, Premier, where I say "thank-you."  Farming is a way of life that emphasizes community.  I grew up in that.  Even so, I have never seen farmers come together in such a huge display of solidarity as I have in the past few weeks.  I can't say I agree with all of them.  I daresay some haven't done as much research as I have and are acting on fear instead of logic.  Whatever the reason, though, we are coming and standing together to ask you to stop.  Just hit the pause button, step back, and listen to what we are saying.  That's all we want.  Remember, we care about safety, too.  Some of the things being presented in Bill 6 are a good idea.  We're just afraid that you have no clue how farming really works (which is true) and that you will kill an industry and a way of life by rushing (you know...that's how people get hurt on the farm; we rush and hurry and take shortcuts and that is how we get hurt).  We're asking you not to hurt us.

Premier Notley, you have brought farmers together like never before.  Congratulations.  If this bill goes through without the consultation the farmers are asking for, well, best of luck.  I hope your time in office goes better from here on out - better for you and better for the province.  But if not, you can at least say that you were thanked for one thing: you gave Alberta farmers a reason to look around and really see the huge community that we live in.  Thank-you.

Sincerely,

Valerie E.
Third-Generation Farmer

I Signed the Petition to Stop Bill 6

Yesterday I wrote that I would not sign the petition to stop Bill 6.  Today, I signed the petition.

Did I lie to myself and everyone else when I said I would not sign the petition?  No.  I had no good reason to sign the petition yesterday.  If I had, it would have been a reaction, which is what I wanted to avoid.  I wanted to respond, not react, to Bill 6.  I have continued to research and think carefully about the issue.  Today, after careful consideration, I signed the petition.  Let me tell you why.

Yesterday I wrote that it might be time for the family farm to die, in order to make agriculture more efficient.  That may or may not be true.  I still don't know.  What I do know is that it is not realistic to think that agriculture is anywhere close to making that change.  Family farms still make up a significant portion of our agriculture sector in Alberta.  Not only that, but agriculture isn't just an industry.  For many people, it is still a way of life.  Farmers don't clock in at 8 am and clock out at supper time.  Farming is a hard job, but we don't ask for shorter hours, better pay, or more vacation time.  The difficulties are a non-negotiable part of the job.

I wouldn't want anyone to find me ungrateful, but all these city folk who are worried for the safety of the farmers need to understand that we don't want them speaking for us.  We teach our children, workers, and guests to be safe when they work on the farm.  We don't like the government to interfere in our business too much because it makes us inefficient and costs us a lot of money, for very little benefit.

I think maybe it is time for some of these safety regulations to come to the agriculture industry.  Unfortunately, a lot of the things being proposed by Bill 6 will bring more harm than good to the farmers.  I want to believe that our government is genuinely concerned about our safety.  I also believe that our government officials are genuinely ignorant.  They have no idea about the agriculture industry, and even less understanding of the people behind it.  The one and only reason that I signed the petition is because the government has not consulted with farmers and ranchers on this Bill.  Even so, they plan to implement major portions of it by January 1, 2016.  They plan to consult with farmers after the Bill has passed.  I do not think that is right.

I watched a portion of Question Period, in which the leader of the opposition questioned the wisdom of implementing Bill 6 so quickly.  Every response I heard focussed on the length of time it has been since OHS has been implemented in Alberta.  Our NDP government does not want us too wait "another 98 years" without our "rights".  I won't claim to speak for everyone else in the industry, but I don't want those rights.  Are they even still considered rights if they are forced on a person?  Besides, those are all city folk in the government.  I don't want them speaking for me.  I have my own voice and if I need something, they'll hear it from me!

If the government would consult with farmers before passing the Bill, I would not have signed the petition.  A rushed job like this, though, will have no support from me.  That is why I signed the petition.

I Won't Sign the Petition to Stop Bill 6 (even though I'd like to)

Those of you who were born and raised in the city might be a wee bit confused about why all the farmers are all up in arms about Bill 6.  I'd like to bring my perspective, and hopefully some clarity, to the issue.

Bill 6 is being brought in, as far as I can tell, in response to the tragic death of three young girls on an Alberta farm earlier this fall.  The provincial government would like to bring OHS standards to farms and ranches, which are currently exempt from those standards.  They would also like to bring WCB insurance, employment standards, and labour relations (unions) into the mix for the agricultural industry.  This all sounds fine and dandy on the surface.  After all, most other industries have these things.  Farming, though, is different.

All of these new standards will cost farmers a lot of money and some will lose valuable workers because of the changes.  Farms will need to become more efficient, which means they will have to get bigger.  The family farm will become a thing of the past.  Is that bad?  I don't know.  I'm generally not a fan of change, so my first reaction is to fight all of this as hard as I can.  I don't want to react, though.  I want to respond.  That means I have to put my thinking cap on, do some reading, get as much information as I can, and really figure out what all of this is going to mean.  Only then can I respond properly to these changes.

So what have I been doing lately?  Well, I'll tell you.  I read as much information as I could.  I read a few media reports, all of which were wildly biased, either for or against the proposed changes.  Then I went straight to the source and began to sift through all the government documents I could lay my hands on.  It's heavy reading, but I managed to get a handle of what the government wants to change.  I also managed to get a handle of the motivations behind the proposed changes.  I don't think our new NDP government is evil or in league with the unions, or anything like that.  I think they genuinely want to keep us safe.  They just don't quite know how to do that, because most of them are ignorant.  They just don't understand how daily farm life works.  They need help from farmers to make these changes as realistic as possible.

There is a petition going around social media to stop Bill 6.  I really want to sign it.  I want this all to go away because I don't like change.  But...what if it is time to change?  What if it is time to say goodbye to the family farm?  What if, in order to make agriculture really and truly efficient, effective, and sustainable, the concept of the family farm needs to die? I hope that isn't the case, but it may well be.  Maybe I need to be ready for change.  Maybe it is my responsibility to make sure that the coming changes happen in the best way possible.  I think maybe that is how I am supposed to respond.

So, I will not be signing the petition to stop Bill 6.  Instead, I have filled out this government survey to help those city-bound official make proper decisions.  I will also be attending a townhall session at Olds College in December to learn more.  I will continue to do my research and look at the issue from all angles until I can do nothing more to make this coming change (and yes, it is coming), as good for everyone as it can possibly be.

Resources: 
General Info:
http://work.alberta.ca/farm-and-ranch.html
FAQs:
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/farm-and-ranch-QAs.pdf
Fact Sheets:
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/Adolescents-and-Young-Persons.pdf
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/minimum-wage.pdf
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/Vacations-and-Vacation-Pay.pdf
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/General-Holidays-and-General-Holiday-Pay.pdf
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/Overtime-Hours-and-Overtime-Pay.pdf
http://work.alberta.ca/documents/Hours-of-Work-Rest-Periods-and-Days-of-Rest.pdf
An example of the reaction I am tempted to give, from another farmer:
https://www.facebook.com/notes/daniel-schneider/a-small-voice/10156239997620282

Blessings

It's been difficult lately to count my blessings.  The projects are piling up, tests and quizzes are looming, and the end of the semester is getting closer all the time.  Add a bout of illness and a dose of depressing world news to all that and I'm getting downright cranky.  Sometimes, though, I have a wee bit of time to stop and remember the good things in life.  Here's a short list of my blessings:

1.  Good food from home (a.k.a. Mom's cooking)

2.  Callouses, because the keep the blisters at bay

3.  Safe travels home and back for me and my friends

4.  Medicine to keep me healthy

5.  Warm clothes when the winter starts coming

6.  A good herd of cows

7.  The sight of snow, a beautiful sight to behold

8.  Family to love and be loved by

9.  Friends to miss when they're away (or when I'm away)

10.  Worn clothes and boots, a testament to hard work and a good life

And with that, here is a blessing for you:

May your hands be ever calloused, your boots be ever worn, and may your sorrows never overshadow your joy.

Agri-Trade

Last year about this time, I wrote about my adventures at Farm Fair in Edmonton.  Today for the first time ever, I attended Agri-Trade in Red Deer.  The experiences were similar in some ways and very different in others.

I have attended Farm Fair many times in my life and so was familiar with how it worked and how the booths are typically set up.  As usual, I attended Farm Fair with my parents last year.  I had an assignment to do last year.  I had to talk to at least five people at the booths and collect their business cards to prove I had done it.  It was a bonus assignment, not really worth any important marks.

This year I found myself on a bus at 8:00 this morning, surrounded by class mates and heading to an agricultural fair that I had never seen before.  I had an assignment to complete again, this one worth 10% of my final mark.  Agri-Trade is huge.  I think I must have walked a few miles today.  I am generally reluctant to strike out on my own in strange situations, so I stuck quite closely to my classmates until we crossed paths with some other students.  Those other students are from a different program, but one of them is a friend of mine, so I switched groups and followed them about as they worked on completing their assignments.  Finally, after we had lunch, I decided it was time to really strike out on my own.  When I am surrounded by people it is incredibly hard for me to do my own talking.  My assignment this time was to talk to a bunch of different people.  I had to get answers to specific questions about precision cropping systems, about which I understand very little.  For some of the questions, I didn't even know what companies to approach.  Eventually, I got up the courage to approach some vendors and ask my questions.  I was rather frustrated to find that many of the vendors seemed surprised to find me asking questions about their products.  They seemed to give me the minimal answers (which was not helpful in completing my assignment) and since I didn't really understand what I was supposed to be learning, I couldn't ask good questions.  It seemed to me that the vendors took one look at me and assumed me to be just a girl who didn't know much and wasn't very important.  That's certainly how I felt; I was a just a girl who didn't know much.  It was incredibly frustrating.  So, whenever I could I would find a woman salesperson to talk to, because the women never made me feel that way.

I don't usually have much of an issue with being both a woman and a farmer.  The salespeople and technicians at the parts places and machinery dealers back home know who I am and they help me out just like they would do for my dad.  I know there are people who think I shouldn't be a farmer, that I don't know my place as a woman.  They don't make much of a fuss anymore though, and I typically ignore them because I know I can't change their minds.  The teachers and other students at school are used to seeing girls come and plan to return to the farm, just like I do.  They treat us just like the men at school.  But those salespeople at Agri-Trade, they don't know what to do when this shy, scared girl tiptoes up to their booths and starts asking question about technology she knows nothing about.

I wish I was more sociable.   The friend that I was hanging out with at Agri-Trade is far more sociable than me, and so are her classmates.  They are reasonably comfortable talking to people.  They even dragged me over to one of the salesmen at the John Deere booth and got me started with my questions for him.  That was a bit embarrassing, but it sure made my job easier.  I often think that if I was more sociable it would be easier for people to treat me like a farmer.  They would see my confidence and understand that I am well within my rights to be asking questions about steering guides, combine yield monitors, and prescription mapping services.  But with me as myself, all those salespeople see is a scared little girl who doesn't know anything and doesn't have any right to be wasting their time.  And I know that they think that.  That's why I was so frustrated by the end of the day, even though I eventually got all of the answers to my questions.

Emotions and the Farm

I wrote this several months ago to try to explain emotions on the farm to city friend of mine, but I never made it public.  Recently, my sister asked me to proofread a paper for her.  In the paper, she talked about "coming from a farming community where emotional vulnerability simply isn’t part of daily life."  It is true that we aren't particularly "emotionally vulnerable" at home.  However, my sister and all the rest of us know that the emotions that come with the farming life can be overwhelming at times.  We just don't always express them.  I have decided that it is now time to share what I wrote about emotions on the farm.

Farming is an extremely taxing job emotionally.  As farmers we do all we can to keep our livestock healthy, our crops growing well and our machinery working, but sometimes things don’t work out. 

Calves die, no matter how much doctoring we give them, no matter how many vet bills we rack up trying to save them.  Even when the vet gives up, we don’t because we can’t just watch a creature suffer and die without trying to save it.  Sometimes the calves do the impossible and pull through and when we see the vet at church and tell him about, he celebrates with us.  Too often, though, the sick calf will die and when it dies, it hurts, but we have to carry on, so we keep it inside. 

Crops fail, no matter how precise our placement of fertilizer is, no matter how many weeds we kill and how much water we give.  We can’t control the weather and all too often, the weather kills our crops, but we harvest what we can anyway, because we can’t just watch the field rot.  We harvest what we can because we have to have something to feed our cattle through the winter.  It’s ever so frustrating to be so totally helpless, so relentlessly subject to something that most others talk about only in passing conversation, but there’s nothing to be done about it, so we keep it inside and keep going because next year will be better.  Next year has to be better. 

Machinery quits on us and breaks down, no matter how well-maintained it is.  All it takes is one rock, one weak spot in the hydraulic hose, and work grinds to a halt.  All we can do is fix it and keep going, praying all the while that the rain will hold off long enough to let us finish.  Sometimes all we want to do is shout and throw things and kick whatever has broken, and sometimes we do those things, in the back of the field, where no one can see.  But we can’t afford to call the mechanic for every little breakdown, so we calm ourselves and fix it and keep going.

Sometimes the economy changes and once again, we are ruled by something that is utterly beyond our control.  Bottoms fall out of markets and we are forced to sell our livestock or crops for far less than what it cost to grow them because we can’t eat it all ourselves.  Prices for our crops or livestock might skyrocket, but then everyone else wants a piece of the pie, so land rent, fuel, and everything else skyrockets, too.  When it gets really bad, we want to rant and rave and ask that we be allowed just once to look at our bank statements and not feel sick because the margins are so tight.  But, we don’t know who to rant to, so we keep it inside and pray that next year society will give us a break.

Often it’s the unexpected things that hurt the most.  Grown men will kneel in a field blooming with a bountiful hay harvest on a clear, sunny day, weeping because they have just run over a young fawn with the haybine.  It was hiding in the hay and try as he might, the farmer just couldn’t see it.  It is still alive, but its legs are cut off.  There is nothing to do but put it out of its misery.  He can’t let it suffer while he goes all the way back home for the gun.  That will take too long.  So he has to kill it with what he has: a rock, a stout branch, anything to get it over with quickly.  The man that fights so his own calves can live must bash in the head of a helpless baby deer because he didn’t see it in time.  Non-farmers don’t see us weeping over what we must do.  They only see the horrific videos online of animals being killed by the hundreds in slaughterhouses, or of some idiot farm workers abusing the animals.  At best, the public sees emotionless, weather beaten work machines.  At worst, they see cruel monsters.  Those perceptions hurt the most.  These people have no idea of the emotional roller coasters that we ride because we hide behind optimism and stubborn pride, so they think we don’t care when a calf dies, when the crops fail, when they want more from us than we can give, when everything breaks, or when the weather just does its thing.  Only 2% of us truly understand the frustration, but we have trained ourselves to move past it and keep going, so we don’t even stop to defend ourselves.  We just keep it inside and move on because how else can we keep doing a job that takes and takes and then takes more?

Some years, things go well.  Fewer calves die than normal.  The crops do well.  The weather and economy both cooperate.  There are fewer breakdowns than usual and they don’t all come at once.  The public, by some unknown miracle decides to at least tolerate, if not accept farmers again.  And we celebrate in those times.  Our celebrations are not big parties and community gatherings.  They are quiet sighs of relief, a lighter tone in our conversations with the neighbours, a lifting of stooped and weary shoulders, a nicer Christmas than last year, maybe even a new tractor or cattle handling system.  These are the years when we have time to remember why we farm.  We don’t farm for the money.  We don’t farm to feel pride in our abilities to keep our animals alive and our crops growing bountifully.  Just as we suffer with the things we can’t control, we also rejoice in the little pleasures that come without our asking.  A new calf figuring out how to suck, the new farm dog obeying "stay", the rain coming just when we need it, sick calves coming back from the brink of death, birds flying alongside the tractor as we work the fields, deer leading their fawns out of the hay before we get there and pausing just long enough for us to marvel at their beauty, the feeling of relief and a job well done when the grain bins are full and the equipment is put away for another year.  These and many others are the things that make farming worthwhile.  And we keep them inside too, along with the hurts and frustrations.  When the hard stuff seems to come all at once and overwhelm us, we can stop, and look around and know that it’s all worth it, that we’re going to be okay.

Farmers don’t show a lot of emotion.  If we did, we would be overwhelmed by it and unable to properly do our jobs.  We don’t see death and carnage on a daily basis as those in other professions do, but we see enough of it to know that the only way to keep going is to become a bit callous, even as our job demands compassion.  So, we deal with the tough times in our own ways.  We don’t ask others to understand.  We ask only that you not judge us by what you see on the outside and that you don’t ask to see the inside.  If we trust you enough, we might let you see the hurts and triumphs we carry with us.  That is a rare gift and a sign of trust.

This is Squirt.  He survived against the odds.

Falling in Love

I've always been rather skeptical of the phrase "falling in love."  It makes it sound like love isn't a choice, as if you're just walking along one day and suddenly trip and fall into this hole called "Love."  As someone who likes to have control, that just doesn't sound like very much fun to me.  I'd rather choose to love, thank-you very much.  Unfortunately for me, I am discovering that sometimes, love isn't as much of a choice as I think it is.  Every time I hold a cousin's new baby, I fall in love with another little human.  Every time I make new friends, there comes a point when I can't help but be concerned if they are sick or I think they are going to hurt themselves, and I figure that's a type of love.  I can't help that.  It just happens.

And then there are the times when I'm on the tractor, looking at the fields and trees and sky around me, and just thinking of the possibility of leaving it all makes me feel sick.  Somehow, long before I even knew someone could love a lifestyle or a job, I fell in love with farming.  It must have happened when I was young.  Maybe it was the time my dad let a little five-year-old me help put the cab on the old Cockshutt tractor for the winter and my hands got "just as dirty as Daddy's!"  Or maybe it was the time I first got to rake hay all by myself because I was finally tall enough to reach the clutch.  Maybe it was in the years of drought and BSE, when everything seemed to be going wrong and farmers all over were selling out and I was terrified that my dad would do the same.  I don't know when it happened, but I fell in love with farming.  Now I'm in that hole, with no way out, and I rather like it here.

The worst part of this "falling in love" thing is that it is easy to just accept it and carry on.  I'm afraid that I will hold on to this love for the farm and set it above all else.  I'm afraid the farm will become an idol that keeps me from doing what God wants me to do.  I'm afraid that one day I'll have the chance to choose to love a man and I will turn away because a patch of land is too important to me.  I'm afraid that I'll hold on to the farm too tightly and jeopardize both the farm and myself in the process.  What if I'm not meant to run the family farm, but I try anyway and run it into the ground?  What if I'm not meant to do the sort of work that farming requires?  What if I get sick, but push through to do the work and destroy myself?  That's a lot of "what if's" and "I'm afraid's".

I'm done with letting love control me so that I only have fear.  I want to choose to love.  I will choose to love the farm for the gift that God has given me.  I will steward the land for as long as I am able and then I will hand it over to whoever is the next one to steward it.  I will choose people over the land, even when it is hard.  I will choose God and His will for my life over all else and pray that He will give me the desires of my heart, which will be the desires of His heart.  I will choose the healthy love that God gives to His children, rather than the love of the world that fills me with fear and angst.  And I will choose to love farming, whether I get to be in the center of it or not.

Harvest 2015

When Tragedy Strikes

This post has been updated from its original form.  My thanks to Mr. G for clarifying what I didn't know.

Not long ago, we heard of a terrible accident that claimed the lives of three young girls on an Alberta farm.  It is shocking and heartbreaking anytime someone is killed or seriously injured on the farm, and especially so when the victim is a child.  As a farmer, I am well aware of the dangers that go with my job and lifestyle and I have had my share of close calls.  I don't much like to talk or think about the dangers and tragedies, but sometimes circumstances demand a response.  This is one such time.

I have no children, so I have no idea what the parents and family of these young girls must be feeling.  I imagine they are heartbroken and numb.  There have been tragic deaths of teenagers in the Barrhead community, so I can understand a bit of the shock that the community must be feeling.  Even for those who did not know the girls or the family, there is some level of grief and a measure of disbelief.  No one wants it to be true.  Several years ago, a neighbour of mine was killed in a farming accident, so again, I can understand the shock and grief of the community.  These types of accidents hit farmers particularly hard because we are reminded of our own close calls, but we still have to go out and keep working, though with extra vigilance so that our family is not the next to bury a loved one.  Yes, I can empathize with those who are grieving right now.  My first response to this tragedy is to think of the family and community.

My second response, which follows only seconds after my initial response is far less understanding.  As a farm kid, I played and worked in some pretty dangerous places.  I know that I did and I know that other farm kids still do.  My second response, though terribly harsh, is this: What on earth were those girls doing in the back of that grain truck?  How could this happen?  How could they be allowed to be there?  There were clearly adults on the scene.  Why didn't they stop them?  I realize that this type of response, blaming those who were there, is not in any way helpful.  I know it won't bring those girls back or comfort the family.

Don't misunderstand me. Let's take away the fact that these were children for a moment. I know how easy it is to just climb into the back of a truck and even out the piles to make more grain fit. Knowing they were helping out and not just playing, I figure that's probably what the girls were doing. But every farmer knows how quickly one can sink down into the grain without even realizing it. I'm not saying the girls were wrong or their parents or other family members. I know it is easy to blame them and I admit I'm tempted to do so, but I need to emphasize that I get it. I get how these things happen, but we as farmers need to be more vigilant with ourselves, our workers, and our children.

I can't help thinking that all of us in the farming community (myself included) need, every so often, to be taken by the shoulders, firmly shaken, and asked, "What are you doing?!"  It's far too easy for us to believe ourselves to be invincible.  The dangers are so common that we almost forget they are there.  I am guilty of doing stupid things to save time and my city cousins (quite rightly) have lectured me several times on staying safe.  When tragedy strikes, all of us are more willing to listen to those lectures, to take a little extra time, and to be safe.  If only we could always remember to do that.  We might lose far fewer farmers and far fewer children.

Farmer Fashion

One of the required courses for my program at Olds College is called Range and Forage Crop Management.  Near the beginning of the course, we learn about the history of ranching in Western Canada and for each new class of students, the teacher inevitably points to the cowboy fashions from about 100-150 years ago and says, "As you can see, the fashions haven't changed much."  At that point, everyone stealthily looks around, half- embarrassed, half-amused, to see that it's true.  Most of us are wearing jeans, and boots and are sporting interesting tan lines from our summer of work.  Not everyone wears button up shirts anymore, unless it's at some fancy event.  Every so often, I remember that day in class and start thinking about farmer fashions.  I'd like to give an insider's view of this topic to those city folk who think farmer fashion is simple.

Let me start by explaining that it is very difficult for city folk to imitate farmer fashion.  I always get a kick out of going to FarmFair in Edmonton or watching the Calgary Stampede on television.  It's just too easy to tell who is and isn't a farmer.  I'm not sure I could even point out the differences.  All I know is that the city folks are clearly trying too hard to fit in, although they do get the stereotypical basics down pretty well.

Dad's typical work day wardrobe.

For those city folks who want to look a little more natural at the next rodeo, here are a few explanations of the basic parts of farmer fashion, from head to toe:

Headgear:

There are two basic categories of headgear: winter protection and hats.  Winter protection usually takes the form of a toque, but some farmers like the fur hats or caps with ear flaps.  It's really just personal preference.

Hats are bit different.  In my experience, there are three main hats that a farmer might wear.  The first is a cowboy hat.  Usually it's ranchers and rodeo cowboys that wear these more, but many farmers have a spare cowboy hat to wear to rodeos and such.  Then of course there are the baseball caps.  We don't buy these.  They are forms of advertising, swag that is given out to farmers from various companies.  We don't really care much what company logo is on the cap (unless it's a machinery dealer).  Caps go through phases of life.  First, they begin as the "town cap," which can be worn into town for business.  Next, they become work caps, gradually getting filthier and more faded as time goes on.  Eventually, they are too gross or too worn to wear any more.  Depending on the farmer, the cap may then be either thrown out, or used to decorate a fenceline.  The final hat is the all-important, though seldom-used straw hat.  As far as I know, most Canadian farmers don't use these anymore.  However, there are a few of us who keep a battered old straw hat for those few stifling hot days when the field work has to be done, but a cap is just too warm.

Shirts:

As I mentioned, not everyone wears button up shirts all the time anymore.  Those are often reserved for fancier events (especially for men).  For work and leisure, the T-shirt is now king, although it has not completely replaced the good ol' plaid button-up.  Sometimes a T-shirt and button-up can be paired, but that's not as common as the movies make it seem.  Hoodies are also pretty popular when the weather cools down.  Let me just make a quick comment on tucking rules.  There really aren't any.  Some people tuck their shirts (button-up or T-shirt) into their jeans, and others leave them intucked.  For the city folks out there, if you're trying to blend in at a rodeo, don't go crazy if you try to tuck your shirt in.  It's a dead giveaway to see a too-neatly tucked shirt.  Farmers don't have time for that.  Just tuck and go.  Or tuck on the go.  Sweaters and hoodies are never to be tucked in.

Jeans:

Oh, dear.  Where do I begin?  There are no hard and fast rules about jeans.  However, there are certain jeans that are clearly made more for city folks, because farmers just don't wear them.  For example, most farmers don't buy pre-faded, pre-ripped, or flimsy jeans.  Sparkles aren't all that popular either.  We break the jeans in to our bodies, wear them thin, and make them faded and ripped on our own.  Most farmers just wear standard, sensible jeans.  Like caps, jeans start out as "good" jeans for town and eventually become work jeans, where they are ripped, faded, and generally destroyed until they are no longer wearable.  It's a sad day when your favourite pair of work jeans finally just falls apart and can't be fixed anymore.

Before I move on too footwear, let me just make few notes about tucking one's jeans into one's boots:

 - It is not okay to tuck jeans into cowboy boots.  If your jeans are too tight to go over your boots, you need different jeans.  It isn't fashionable to have the boots on the outside.  It's just weird.  You can disagree, but this is my humble opinion.

 - The purpose of wearing rubber boots is to protect the bottom of your pants.  Tuck your pants into your rubber boots.  Otherwise, you might as well not wear them.

Footwear:

We don't all wear cowboy boots all the time.  Let's just get that myth out of the way right away.  Actually, farmers have a wide variety of footwear.  In order to deal with this huge topic efficiently, I'll make a list of the various types of footwear with short descriptions.

Cowboy boots - stylish and useful for riding horses, they are shockingly comfortable unless you need to walk long distances

Rubber boots - good for keeping your pant legs from getting muddy

Winterized (insulated) rubber boots - because regular rubber boots just freeze solid in the winter - you might as well wear metal boots once your regular rubber boots freeze

Running shoes - super comfy, good for just about anything, but hard to clean if you walk through a muddy corral in them

"Crocs" or "Dawgs" - this is not recommended for safety reasons, but quite a few farmers like to wear these on the tractor

Work boots - like running shoes, these are good for just about anything and if they have steel toes, you can drop anything you like and not get hurt

A snapshot of the variety of footwear seen on Aggies at Olds College.

That was a lot to get through and I have really only scratched the surface.  Hopefully this was helpful for anyone wanting to fit in at the next rodeo or county fair!  Or maybe it was just good for a laugh.  I'd be okay with that, too.

If I Was a Farmer's Wife

I've mentioned before that a lot of people tell me that I should marry a farmer.  I generally scoff at the idea and wiggle my way out of those conversations as quickly as possible.  I don't need to marry a farmer; I am a farmer.  Besides, that really narrows down my options.  However, I must admit that there are days, like today, when I find myself thinking, "I would make an amazing farmer's wife!"  I'm not trying to send out any hints here.  I'm just saying that I'd be good at it.  Allow me explain:

If I Was a Farmer's Wife:

My husband would be awfully well-fed.

Okay, so I'm not the best cook in the world, but I've done a lot of improving over the last few years (just ask my fellow students that I occasionally have over for supper).  Besides, I'm half German.  I will feed you full and then force more on you because that's how you're supposed to treat guests, don't you know.

The house would always be decently clean.

My close family members might scoff at this, but on the farm there are always neighbours dropping in and I hate to have guests, even neighbours, see a messy house.  On the other hand...

I wouldn't make too much of a fuss about messes in the house.

On the farm, things get dirty.  That's just a fact of life.  And I can live with a bit of organized messiness (anyone who has seen my room can confirm this).

My husband wouldn't need a hired hand.

He'd have me to help.  Bonus: I'm already trained in the technical skills, etc.

No topic would be banned from the supper table.

My dad and I are routinely banned from speaking about certain things when we're eating because Mom and Janna can't handle it (really, what's wrong with talking about trapping gophers over a good roast beef dinner?).  I can handle any grossness a farmer might throw at me (literally and figuratively).

I would understand.

When we have to miss church because the cows got out - I understand.  When suppers have to be wrapped up and taken to the field - I understand.  When everything is going wrong at once - I understand.  I've been there.

I could help.

I know what to do when things go wrong and I can help with whatever needs to be done.  Even if what I have to do is just wait, I can do that.  I've done it before.

Now, lest you begin to think, "She doesn't need a husband.  She's got it all under control herself,"  I must make one last point:

If I was a farmer's wife, I would need my husband.

I'd need him to reach things from the top shelf (because using a stool all the time is awful).  I'd need him to deal with the mice (the only rodent I have an issue with).  I'd need him to lift the heavy things, help me make decisions, and send me away when I get too frustrated for a job.  I can do all these things myself, but sometimes I think it would pretty nice to have a husband to help.

My dad does all of these things for me now, but I can't expect him to always be there, especially once he retires.  But, even if I marry a man who isn't a farmer, I think I'll feel like the most blessed woman on earth.

*Note to the family matchmakers:  Please be reminded that I am not hinting for you to go find me a husband.  These are just musings.  Calm down.  :)

Life as an Aggie

Disclaimer: No part of this post is meant to be a criticism of my school, teachers, or classmates.

"Aggie -(N Amer. informal) a student of agricultural science [abbreviation]" - Oxford Canadian Dictionary

Today I walked into my 8:00 am class and nodded a greeting to my professor, who was on his cell phone.  I sat down in my regular spot, pulled out my binder and iPad, found a couple of pens that had gone missing, and waited for class to start.  My professor (who is a veterinarian and probably fielding a work call) left the room and as I glanced up to see where he was going, I found myself face-to-face with a very life-like plastic cow head.

This thing was staring at me for an hour of class this morning...creepy, eh?

It was a bit creepy at first, but not really surprising.  In my second year of the Ag Management diploma, not very much surprises me anymore, especially in classes like Livestock Health and Disease.  The cow head got me thinking, though, about how being an Aggie is so different from any other educational experience.  I would like to share with my readers a bit about what it is like to be an Aggie.

My classroom is sometimes a barn.  Literally.

Most of the time, we have classes in lecture halls, just like everyone else.  But sometimes, we have class in the barn.  I'm not talking just about labs here.  This year some of the classes are so large that we don't all fit into the little classroom-type area in the Livestock Center, so there are tables and chairs set up in the barn, along with a projector, screen, and white board for the teacher to use.  Let me tell you what happens when a class has lectures in the barn:

• There are a lot of flies around.  That should end once winter comes.  Then we'll be wearing parkas to class (don't worry; the barn is heated...a little).
• If the door is left open a bit, animals walk in.  I don't mean cows; they're all locked up in their pens.  I mean animals of the cat and dog variety.  My professor had to shoo a dog out of the "classroom" just the other day.
• Since the barn is used for labs, we get to look at the bits of anatomy that the first-years were exploring earlier in the day if they haven't yet been disposed of.  That may sound gross, but it really isn't.  Well, not to me anyways.  Really, it's shocking how many squeamish people there are in my livestock classes.
• The internet is really slow on that end of campus, so everyone has to turn off the wi-fi on their cell phones so we can all have decent internet on our laptops and tablets.
• The floor is always dirty.  That's all I want to say about that.

Field trips are actually in fields (most of the time).

Sure, sometimes we go to downtown Calgary to look at successful business models and such, but often we get to visit farms, where we meet the farmers right in their fields or barns.  Sometimes we tramp around in random fields and pastures looking for grasses and such to identify.  It's pretty fun.

Boots are important.

Walking around campus I see all sorts of boots: work boots, rubber boots, steel-toed boots, winter rubber boots, and cowboy boots (of course).  We are required to have steel-toed work boots for certain classes (machinery classes, for example).  Rubber boots are also required and are just awfully nice to have on those days when we get to go tramping through muddy corrals or clean the barn after palpating cows.  In the winter, we wear insulated rubber boots for the same purposes.  Then there are the cowboy boots.  What can I say about them?  They are not required.  Running shoes are far more comfortable.  Those boots were not made for walking.  But they're just so stylish!  

Sometimes classes are held outside.

These are lab-type classes.  Do you remember being in high school and begging the teacher to let you have class outside on those warm, sunny spring days?  I get to have classes outside quite often.  The only thing is, it's not usually warm and sunny.  I've learned to use GPS without mittens on frigid fall mornings, checked the college cows during calving in the middle of winter (in the middle of the night), and stood hunched over my lab question sheet, trying to shield it from the rain as the teacher tried to make his explanation as quick as possible so we could all get inside.  When a teacher says, "dress for the weather on Tuesday," I listen.

The variety of classes is overwhelming.

For example, the following is a list of all of the Ag Management classes that I will have taken at Olds College by the time I graduate this spring:

• Workplace Communication
• Workplace Professionalism
• Principles of Marketing
• Range and Forage Crop Management
• Agricultural Management Principles (Economics)
• Survey of Agribusiness
• Agribusiness Accounting
• Advanced Product Marketing
• Principles of Animal Agriculture
• Environmental Farm Management
• Agribusiness Information Technology
• Agribusiness Planning and Management
• Beef Cattle Management
• Machinery and Technology
• Farmstead Management
• Livestock Health and Disease
• Livestock Breeding Strategies
• Precision Cropping Systems
• Principles of Soil and Crop Nutrition
• Agribusiness Financial Management
• Personal Selling and Customer Relations Management
• Introduction to Welding
• E-Marketing
• Field Crop Management
• Livestock Nutrition
• Introductory Pest Management

Need I say more? (At the end of this blog post I will post pictures that I have stored on my iPad from various classes.  WARNING:  If you are squeamish, skip that part of the blog!!)

Class presentations are actually interesting.

Okay, so there are still some boring presentations.  However, since a lot of us are going back to the farm, we get to do a bunch of major projects on our own operations and present them to the class.  It's like farmer show and tell.  I find them interesting.

Sometimes people don't show up for class for a week or two.

It's called harvest and it has a higher priority than classes.  The students always show up eventually and get caught up.

Students openly carry knives around with them and that's perfectly okay.

I don't really know what else to say about this.  It is what it is and what it is, is normal.

It gets a bit weird talking to students from other schools.

Once I was talking to a friend at church who is taking some kind of computer program at a school in Edmonton.  I was just starting to go glassy-eyed when he said something about "AI".  Now in tech language, AI is an abbreviation for artificial intelligence.  I knew that, but all I could think of was the agricultural definition of AI, which is not something one normally discusses in church.  That conversation got pretty awkward pretty fast.

- - - - - -

I could go on about life as an Aggie, but for now I think I'll wrap it up before I get too long-winded.  I hope you had fun looking into my life for a few minutes!

As promised, here are some random pictures from my classes (WARNING: Not for the faint of stomach!!):

Country at Heart

Disclaimer: This post will likely turn into a bit of a rant and will probably offend a few people, even some good friends of mine.  I'm sorry.  I have no better way to say what I'm thinking.

I've heard this phrase from a lot of people over the years: "I'm from the city, but I'm a country boy/girl at heart."  Every time I hear that I cringe a little on the inside.  The cringe comes from two places.  First, it comes from confusion.  Second, it comes from that little part inside of me that (I'm ashamed to admit) looks down on such folks and says, "you have no idea what you're talking about."  Let me explain.

I'm confused when people call themselves "country at heart."  What does that even mean?  Am I country at heart?  I don't know.  I grew up in the country.  I like being out of town better than being in town.  I like nature.  I drive a pick-up truck and listen to country music.  My favourite pair of pants are jeans and I happen to think that cowboy boots are pretty fashionable.  Does all of that make me "country at heart"?  I don't really think it does.  I think those are just things that were normally around  when I was growing up and they became a part of me as I grew.


Or maybe when people talk about being "country at heart" they mean those elusive, yet admirable characteristics with which people endow the ideal cowboy.  You know the one I mean: that gruff, weathered old man whose handshake is his promise, who helps a neighbour out of trouble, takes no garbage from anyone, and is generally respected by everyone.  It's a well-known ideal, idolized by many who call themselves "country at heart".  I call it just being a good person.  I like to think I'm a good person as a result of my faith in God.  Regardless of one's reason for acting like a decent human being, there are plenty of people who are quite respectable, hardworking, and honest.  Those qualities need not be reserved for cowboys and farmers.


Now for the part that I'm ashamed to admit: I'm a bit of a snob.  Aside from my confusion about what it means, I guess I don't really mind if some people call themselves "country at heart".  However, when those people come from the city, I have to wonder if they have any idea what they are talking about.  Do they know what they mean when they say that?  Are they talking about ideals and missing the good qualities of people from their own neighbourhoods?  Do they just mean they like fresh air and trees?  Maybe they mean they like the country life in general: the people, the fresh air, the open spaces, and the farming community.  That's where I turn into a bit of snob.  How can anyone who grew up in the city know a thing about what it is to live the country life?  How can they understand the various hardships and frustrations that meet us in each season and across many years?  Yes, there are many city folk who spend time in the country, working on farms or at summer camps, but they rarely stay year-round.  You can't understand what country life really is until you live in the country through the good years and the bad, making finances stretch impossibly far and doing things you'd never even think needed doing.


I've ranted enough now.  I'm not even sure what I really want to say on this topic.  Maybe I'm trying to say that the country isn't in one's heart.  The country is a harsh, brutal place to live and work, beautiful though it may be.  Yes, I love living and working on the farm and I wouldn't easily be persuaded to live in a city.  However, it's a hard life, and not at all like you see in the movies or on television.  If someone still wants to call themselves "country at heart,"  I'll try not to be a snob about it.  Just make sure you know what you mean.  The country doesn't hold a monopoly on beauty or desirable personal characteristics.

Taking Discussions Offline

I recently logged onto Facebook to see that one of my Facebook friends had re-posted an anti-GMO picture.  It's not the first time I've seen something like that on social media, but I must have been having a bit of a bad day because it made me a bit angry.  I left it alone for a while and then replied that evening, once I'd cooled down a bit, arguing that GMOs are not evil.  A bit of mild debate ensued in the comments of the post, but my friend and I quickly decided to take the conversation off of the internet.  I think we both realised that this is a subject that is far too complex for a social media site.  Also, it's almost impossible to convey tone over the internet and we didn't want the conversation to get unnecessarily heated.

So, this evening I made a trip to town and visited this friend and her husband to continue the discussion.  It was a lot calmer than discussions about GMO, organic, and other food issues often are. We were quickly able to find some common ground and exchanged information that we each had gathered over the years.  We all learned something by the end and then spent a lot of time just visiting over ice cream.  It was much better than having a heated debate over the internet.

I am of the opinion that it is really important to keep learning, especially about things that concern or confuse us.  The intenet is an amazing resource.  There's so much information out there.  Unfortunately, there's too much information out there.  Many facts are half-truths or don't tell the whole story and the vast amount of facts is simply overwhelming.  Combine the overwhelming amount of information with the inability to communicate tone and intent over the internet, and a lot of discussions that should be calm degenerate into angry "shouting matches" liberally sprinkled with capital letters, italics, and emoticons.

Social media sites are great for keeping track of people and randomly connecting with friends we don't see a lot.  It's even good for spreading some types of information.  But sometimes we need to take the conversations off of the internet, sit down face-to-face, and just talk.  The discussion stays calm, gets more in depth, and is liberally sprinkled with beverages, ice cream, and "how's your family".  Now, isn't that better than getting all worked up over a misinterpreted comment on a Facebook post?

Educating Non-Farmers (Part 2)

I had a guest a while ago.  Sara came for a few days to learn more about farming.  She shadowed me as I worked, joined my parents and me on a county tour, helped me get some stuff done, and asked my dad and me lots of questions.

As I was preparing for Sara's visit, I expected to teach her how to do things, and I was wondering how I would give her a decent picture of agriculture in just a few days.  I'm not sure I did a good job of showing Sara what farming culture really is or explaining all of the different aspects of agriculture.

Sara was able to learn the little bit that she did in a number of different ways.  First, she shadowed my dad and me as we worked, helping us haul bales, build a fence, pump water, and do myriad other tasks.  Through these tasks, Sara not only learned how to do things I take for granted (who knew that some people don't know how to use a hammer), she also learned things about daily farm life that farmers just don't even think to talk about.  For example, she learned to think twice about giving the farm dog kisses after seeing firsthand the joy he takes in rolling in fresh manure.  She also experienced the sudden ferocity of an Alberta hailstorm that caught us off-guard as we were fencing one afternoon.

The second way that Sara learned was through conversation as we worked.  I don't think I've ever talked so much in just a few days.  I'm still not back to my normal level of sociability yet.  All that talking took a lot out of me.  Anyway, as we worked, we had lots of conversations about how and why we do things (like why we make round bales and others make square bales), farming culture and community, and agriculture's hot topics (organic agriculture, hormone use, antibiotics, marketing, etc.).  Sara asked some pretty good questions.  There were a lot of topics that we covered that I've wanted to write about in this blog, but the misinformation that is out there is so overwhelming that I have no idea where to start.  I wish more people would just ask a farmer, "So what do you think about _____?"  We all have a perspective that the rest of the world hasn't even thought of.  Of course, not all questions are so complex.  Sometimes it's okay to ask the small, even slightly silly questions, too.  Anything is acceptable, as long as you are learning.  Even "do you rake the hay by hand?" is an okay question.

Finally, Sara had the chance to learn about farming culture and agriculture in a unique, once-a-year way, as she joined us on the annual Ag Service Board County Tour in Barrhead County.  We spent all day crowded into buses full of old farmers (and a few young ones), checking out what's happening in the county, from how the county is dealing with the pocket gopher infestation, to a super-cool farm packed with all sorts of antique farm equipment, to the county's gravel pits.  In between the many stops we made, I explained some stuff about hay and silage to Sara, introduced her to a few of my distant (and close) relatives (I think that overwhelmed her), and we talked about how farmers dress in our community.  In all, it was a very educational day.

I'm hoping that Sara didn't get overwhelmed by all I threw at her.  She seemed to be doing okay.  And by the last day, she was even doing a pretty good job of using a hammer on that fence (we finally finished it Sara!!).  I'm not sure if I'll ever have the chance to be "shadowed" again, but I hope I can continue to teach non-farmers what agriculture and farming culture is all about.

Dad teaching Sara how to splice a wire.

(Note: I should mention that Sara did know how to use a hammer and her skills with the hammer improved quickly through the week.  She's certainly not the worst hammer-handler I've ever seen.)

Killing the Fairy Tale: Conversations with City Folk

This post has been written over time, and not in one sitting as my other posts are.  It is based on real conversations I have had about agriculture with various city folk.  I have had plenty of these conversations that were very positive.  However, sometimes I hear comments that make me cringe.  These are not cruel comments.  They are just woefully uninformed.  I try to explain why these ideas are wrong, but sometimes I'm afraid I'll do more harm than good by killing the fairy tale that is a city dweller's idea of farming.  Allow me to give you, my readers, some examples.

At the end of April I attended a Bible Study retreat for a week.  There I got to talk with a number of people who didn't know much about agriculture, but were interested to learn more.  As usual, all of these conversations were positive, but one still has me shaking my head.  I was talking with two sisters from Grande Prairie during a break one day.  For some reason, I went into the discussion thinking they were at least slightly familiar with farm life.  I launched into an explanation of how I manage my small herd of cows, making the decision to either keep back heifers to build up the herd or to sell the heifer calves for immediate cash to help pay for school each year.  When I had finished the explanation one of the sisters said, "Oh, cool!  It's like a board game!"   I was speechless.  How could I possibly refute that without being harsh?  I was far too angry to give a respectful, reasonable reply.  But I had to say something.  The girls were looking at me, waiting for a reply.  So, I turned to sarcastic humour.  I said, "Oh, yeah.  It's great fun.  Except that sometimes you draw a card that says, 'The bottom just fell out of the beef market because someone got mad cow disease on their farm.'"  It was the best I could do in that moment.  Fortunately, the girls seemed to get the point without getting offended and I managed to calm down.  I should clarify that I wasn't angry at the girl who asked the question.  I was angry that agriculture is taken so lightly and that the general public doesn't seem to understand that agriculture is a dangerous, risky industry.  I'm not angry anymore.  Now I'm just disappointed and frustrated.

In May I went to the dentist.  My dentist is in Edmonton and I've been going to her since before I can remember.  During my check-up, she was asking me about farming.  She asked why I like farming so much.  I couldn't really answer.  I just said that I enjoy the work.  So, the dentist started chalking up all the good things about farming as a career: "It's good because you get lots of exercise from the manual labour.  And it's a nice clean job."  Wait.  What?  Is she serious right now?  The hygienist and I gave the dentist questioning looks before I said, "Well...actually, I get pretty dirty by the end of a day..."  I really couldn't understand why this highly intelligent person would think that farming is a clean job.  "Oh, of course you probably get pretty filthy working in pig poop and whatnot, but at least it's a clean sort of dirty.  I mean, it's natural, not with all these chemicals we have in the city."  We don't have pigs, but I chose to overlook that mistake.  I was too busy trying to figure out if I should kill the dentist's fairy tale and inform her that farmers actually do use a lot of chemicals and we have to protect ourselves accordingly.  I didn't want to turn her into one of those people that will only eat organic, though, and since I had only a short amount of time to talk, I let it go with a vague, "Not really..."  I'm still kicking myself for not thinking and answering faster.

Every summer I attend a Bible Study in town while I'm home.  A few of us are farmers or have grown up in the country, but most of the young adults there grew up in town and have only a vague understanding of what goes on at the farm.  I generally have to filter what comes out of my mouth when people ask, "So what's new on the farm this week, Valerie?" (because you just can't talk about castrating at Bible Study).  One evening I was chatting with my friend and her younger brother after Bible Study was finished and the brother asked, "So now that you're done planting, do you just wait until harvest and not have to work for the rest of the summer?"  Since I know this family fairly well, and because I was overtired, I forgot to filter my response.  Instead, I laughed at the poor guy and started listing all the things my Dad and I will have to do between now and harvest.  When I paused for breath, the young man said, "So, basically, if you didn't have cows you'd have a lot more free time." Momentarily speechless, I stared at him and mentally ran through my to do list again.  It was true.  Everything I said, except for one major project and spraying, wouldn't exist without our cows.  We've got some pretty insightful town kids out here in Barrhead.

I generally know just enough about stuff to get into trouble.  There is very little that I'm an expert in.  Unfortunately, many city folks assume that farmers know all there is to know about all forms of agriculture.  This can present us with some opportunities for a bit of fun when people come to us for advice.  For example, one of my mom's friends who has lived on an acreage for the past few years recently got some sheep.  My parents and I went over there one day and I showed her how to tip a sheep and shared some fun facts that I had learned from one lecture on sheep in my livestock class.  Several weeks later, we were having supper with this same family friend.  She was telling us the gory details of docking the lambs' tails and was wondering if there was a better way of doing it.  She asked, "Have you done that, Valerie?"  I was tired and was tempted to rudely sigh and growl, "No, I only had one class on sheep.  I'm not an expert on sheep and don't care to be."  Instead, I saw an opportunity to have some fun, so as seriously and nonchalantly as possible I said, "Naw, we don't do that to our cows."  There was dead silence at the table for just a second before my parents burst into laughter, while Mom's friend shook her head at me.  Oh but it's fun to mess with people sometimes!

This blog post is getting long enough.  I may do a sequel someday.  I'm sure there are plenty of interesting conversations in my future.  For now, thanks for reading.  And if you're a city person wanting to ask a farmer something, don't be afraid to ask questions.  We'll try to be nice if you say something weird.