Town Jobs are Weird

I thoroughly enjoy farming.  It's a good life.  Unfortunately, the pay isn't so good, especially when one is just starting out.  Because I would like to live slightly above the poverty level, I took the sage advice of my dad and got a part-time job in town earlier this year.  I've had town jobs before.  During my high school years I worked at the public library, and during the first three years of my post-secondary education I worked at the library at my school.  But, those were student jobs.  I've also had temporary jobs doing janitorial work, or working for another farmer, and I have a tiny lawn-mowing business in the summers, but those don't amount to much experience with "normal" jobs.

Now I have a real grown-up job and I'm beginning to realize that town jobs* are weird.  Allow me to enumerate the reasons behind this conclusion.

1. Vacation Time
I didn't get paid vacation time this year (because I had just started the job), but I did take off a week to go on vacation and all I had to do is ask the boss, make sure no one else was gone at that time, and mark it on the calendar.  That's it.  No finding someone to keep an eye on the farm and feed the livestock.  No planning it just right to make sure to be gone during that one-week window when everything can be put on hold for a while.  No mad rush in the last few days before vacation to get everything done.  Going on vacation is downright stress-less with a town job. (Of course, I still have the farm, so all of these things still apply to me, but still...can you see my point?)
Next year I'll have two weeks of paid vacation time.  I can't even wrap my mind around that.

2. Holidays and Weekends
Saturday?  Sunday?  Victoria Day?  Labour Day?  Canada Day?  Thanksgiving?  Christmas AND Boxing Day?  ALL off?  I'm speechless.
(And let's not forget about those jobs that pay extra to those who work holidays and weekends).

3. Coffee Breaks
I first encountered coffee breaks when I worked at the college library.  I was forced to just stop working after a set amount of time and not work until the coffee break time was over.  What is this nonsense?  We only take coffee breaks on the farm if we're between two jobs and have a moment to sit in the shade and chew on some rhubarb or something.  Now I sit at a table for 15 minutes each morning and read the newspaper until the break is over.  Not that I don't enjoy coffee break, mind you.  It's just such a strange concept.

4. Bonuses
I got a Christmas bonus with my last pay cheque.  It wasn't extravagant, but I certainly didn't expect it.  I mean, when I get a bonus on the farm it's because the price of cattle (or canola, or hay, or whatever I'm selling) jumped just at the right time.  With a town job, you get bonuses just because you work there. I think that's how it works anyways.  It's very confusing...and nice.

5. Quittin' Time
My boss has had to tell me a few times to stop working and just go home.  In town, quittin' time is quittin' time.  If there's work left to do, I have to leave it for tomorrow.  On the farm, I don't work late every night, nor even most nights (unless it's a busy season like harvest), but we don't get to just quit because of what the clock says.  We go until the day's work is done (or until Mom calls us for supper).

What about you, fellow farmers?  What are some weird things you've come across in your town jobs.  And for those who don't work on a farm, what do you like about your town job?  Let me know in the comments below!

*Please note that when I talk about town jobs, I am generally referring to non-shift work, punch-in-at-9, punch-out-at-5 types of jobs.

Thanksgiving on the Farm

A while ago, before I got totally caught up in the craziness that is harvest, I asked my readers what I should write about next.  I had writer's block and needed some help.  My question garnered only one response: write about thanksgiving on the farm.  My writer's block went into overdrive.  Far from inspiring me, the suggestion drove me to frustration.  Was I supposed to write about how fun it is to cook and eat the food that we have grown ourselves, enjoying our bountiful harvest and resting from the work of the year?  That's just not how it is!  Thanksgiving is not a romantic, restful respite at the end of a long harvest season.  Not for my family.

My frustration grew and I moved on to other projects until the full swing of harvest swept me up and away from all but the necessary tasks of the day.  There's a funny thing about harvest, though: it's inspiring.  When I am on the tractor, stiff from a day of work, far from a pen, pencil, computer, or voice recorder, and seeing no end in sight to the work ahead, the writing comes to me.  I play it over and over in my head until I've got the words just right, and then I come home and release it onto the computer screen, even though I'm too tired to even pay attention to grammar or spelling.  My inspiration hit this week, just a few days before Thanksgiving.  "I will write about what Thanksgiving is really like on the farm," I thought.  And I began composing the words in my mind.

Without further ado, allow me to present to you, Thanksgiving on the Farm:

Thanksgiving always seems rushed on the farm.  It's not like Christmas, when we can do chores between gifts and dinner, and then spend time as a family afterwards.  It's a quick, scheduled event.  Get the chores done in the morning.  Do as much work as possible before changing into clean clothes to help Mom with the final preparations before our late dinner.  She has been cooking and preparing for most of the morning.  All I have time to contribute is some pickles.  This year I'll bring a jar of beet pickles - the only thing I had time to can this year - and the last jar of last year's mustard pickles, a family recipe from Oma.  If I have time on Sunday, the only day I allow myself to rest during busy times, I might be able to make some biscuits to bring to dinner on Monday, too.

Upon arrival at the house, Dad will carve the turkey, while I stir the gravy and mash the potatoes and Mom dishes up the vegetables, stuffing, and everything else.  When the table is set with Mom's good dishes and all of the food has found a place on the table, we will sit there in our casual clothes, saying what we are thankful for, before diving in to the feast before us.  Previous experience will tell us to take it slow, but we may or may not listen.  When we have eaten our fill, Dad and I will take the time to help Mom clean up the kitchen before returning to the fields.  The day will continue as all the other days.  The only differences will be that I will not have to work at my town job in the morning, and our lunch break will be longer than usual.  That is, unless it rains.  I can't remember it ever raining on Thanksgiving, but you never know.  If it does rain, we'll take our time with the meal, restlessly glancing out the window and praying for the rain to stop.

This is not an unusual account of Thanksgiving on the farm.  Indeed, I have heard stories of Thanksgiving dinner being brought to the field for the workers to wolf down (sometimes a little too quickly) before returning to their frantic work.  I can't recall ever having Thanksgiving dinner in the field, but as harvest drags on and I just want to be done, I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be more convenient to eat in the field, or to just put the feast on hold until the crop is safely in the bins and the machinery stored in the shed for the coming winter.

Most years I wish I didn't have to work on Thanksgiving.  I wish I could help out more in the kitchen, so that Mom wouldn't have to do so much.  Maybe one day I'll have a family to tend, instead of a farm, and I will be able to contribute more to the feast and festivities, instead of rushing in and rushing out, not even bothering to dress up enough to match the fine table settings.  Not that dressing up really matters.  I'd just like to wear something nicer than clean-but-stained jeans and a T-shirt to Thanksgiving dinner, without feeling inconvenienced by having to change again before getting back on the tractor.  Oh, well.  The food and memories are good.

Oh, and a note on the food: Most of it comes from the grocery store.  We don't raise turkeys.  Mom's delicious vegetable dish, which I can only convince her to make on special occasions, contains vegetables that we do not grow in our garden.  Our stuffing and gravy come from boxes (it's really quite tasty).  The wheat that was ground to make the flour for the biscuits was grown by some other farmer.  The pickles are homegrown and homemade, though, as are the potatoes.

So, that is Thanksgiving on the farm.  Not as inspiring or idealistic as one might think, but that's how it is.  It is the family working together, in the fields, and in the kitchen, sharing the load, and taking just enough time to enjoy some good food and good times, before returning to the work that allows us to celebrate together.

If the weather is good, this may very well be what I will be seeing for most of the day this Thanksgiving.

The Great White Combine

Did you know that God is a farmer?  For those of you who are familiar with the Bible, you may be thinking of the parable of the sower, or perhaps of the harvest that has so few workers.  I'm not speaking of parables, though.

Did you know that God has His own combine?  It is called the Great White Combine, and it comes to farmers' fields in the middle of summer, relieving us of the task of harvesting those crops later in the season.

The Great White Combine is hail, and it visited my community earlier this summer.  It was the day before I was to leave for holidays with my sister.  There was a brief lull in the work to be done on the farm, as we had just about finished making the first cut of hay, and could breathe a little easier for a few weeks.  Or, so we thought.

I was exercising in my office when I heard a racket outside.  Thinking my roommate had come home, I stopped for a moment and listened, but no greeting reached my ears.  As the racket grew louder, I glanced out the window to see large hailstones bouncing off my dad's truck parked in front of my house.  My dad was on the tractor, trying to get the last little bit of hay baled.  He says the noise was deafening.

Rushing about the house, I quickly closed windows, praying the few old ones still left in the house would hold up.  When I had finished, I found myself in the living room and suddenly a thought burst upon my consciousness: "The crops!  The crops will be ruined!"

Totally helpless, I stood in the living room, barely able to pray that the hail would stop.  In a rational moment, I grabbed my Bible off the shelf and flipped to Habakkuk 3:17-19, verses I had discovered just a few weeks before.  These verses speak of trusting God when the crops fail.  I wasn't comforted much by reading them, but at least I had something from which to draw strength in that moment.

When the storm was over, I went out to investigate.  I found broken window glass from various outbuildings all over the yard.  My rain gauge was smashed into several pieces.  Dad's truck was dented to such an extent that the insurance company would later write it off.  The garden, which I had laboured to save from flooding just a few days earlier, was completely destroyed, as well as waterlogged.  Pieces of shingles lay at the bottom of the downspouts on my house.

When I had seen as much as I could take in the yard, I hopped into my car to go check the fields.  I met my dad on the road and we returned to the farm, got into his damaged truck, and went together.  All around us, we could see the devastation.  Huge holes were gaped in the siding of houses.  Large green trees had blown over fence lines and were laying across the road, so that we could barely get by.  Every field we passed seemed to be utterly flattened.

We met a neighbour on the road.  I had never considered him to be old before.  He really isn't old at all - maybe 15 years older than me.  That day, though, he looked old and worn as he dragged a branch off the road in front of his truck.  His words chilled me more than the ice that lay piled in the ditches: "Nothin' left."  His young daughter smiled and waved at us from the back seat of the truck, blissfully ignorant of huge weight upon the shoulders of the adults.  I wondered how often I had innocently played and smiled while my daddy bore the losses that are so common on the farm.

Finally, we arrived at the first field of our own.  It was my canola field, which I rent from my cousin, a few miles north of home.  I could have wept with relief when we saw that the ditches had no hail in them and the the crop was standing perfectly, apparently untouched by the storm.

Other fields are closer to home, and those crops were completely destroyed.  I lost about 70 acres of oats, and my dad lost about half of his barley.  We're hoping we can at least make green feed out of them, now that they have grown back.  Further down the highway, the remaining 30 acres of oats stood, slightly damaged, but not too bad.  The rest of Dad's barley was in decent shape, too.

Over the coming weeks we heard stories of how much our neighbours had lost.  Some had insurance.  Others, like us, didn't.  Some lost all of their crops.  Others, like us, had only lost some.

I spent my holidays trying to forget about what awaited me at home and trying to write a blog that would describe what had happened.  I was not successful with either goal, though I did manage to have fun with my sister and the friends that we met up with.

Now that harvest is upon us, we look around at our fields, hoping for decent yields from those crops that survived the storm.  The rest were harvested by God's combine, and we have to trust Him to provide what we cannot provide for ourselves.

The animals were unharmed by the storm.  This picture doesn't show the sheer amount of ice that lay on the ground afterwards.

The garden was both destroyed and waterlogged.

My poor beets somehow managed to survive, though I certainly didn't expect them to when I took this picture.

We had so much rhubarb this year - until the hail shredded it.

The hail even stripped bare the saskatoon sapling which I had planted just days earlier.

You can see the trees lying across the road.

My canola, standing strong and untouched by the storm, though only a few miles away from home.

My oats in the larger field, totally destroyed.

My oats in the smaller field.  There is some damage, but not much.

I found pieces of my rain gauge strewn across the lawn and the driveway.

Even the piece that held the rain gauge to the fence was smashed.

Checking fences in the pasture at sunset.  We had so much grass before the storm that we worried the pastures would be overgrown.  Now they look overgrazed.

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The Day the SPCA Came to the Farm

I was 17 years old.  My sister and I both had the day off.  She had ended her shift at work the night before and I would start my shift the next morning at the dairy where we both worked for the summer.  Dad was out in the field and we were enjoying our morning off.

Then the doorbell rang.

Neither of us liked to answer the door.  That was a torture in the same category as talking on the phone to strangers, except that the phone had caller ID, so we could screen strange numbers.  Janna and I engaged in a silent battle of wills.  I lost and went to answer the door.  Opening it, I gaped at a uniformed man standing on the deck.  So surprised was I by the appearance of an actual stranger that I couldn't even identify the uniform.

He introduced himself as a member of the SPCA.  I blinked at him.  Had someone called the SPCA on us?

Yep.

Why?  We don't abuse our animals.  The perfectly healthy dogs frolicking on the front lawn ought to testify to that.

Well, it wasn't the dogs that he was there to talk about.  It was the cows.  To be specific, it was one cow that was being kept in a small pasture right beside the highway.

It was Janna's cow.  I knew I should have made her answer the door.

Let me tell you about this cow.  It had a lump on its shoulder - an incredibly large lump.  It made the cow rather immobile.  The vet had taken a look at it, tried to treat it, tried draining the fluid from it, but nothing worked.  The lump just kept coming back.  Normally, the cow should have been put down immediately since this thing was unidentifiable and clearly incurable.  However, that cow (like all the other cows) had a calf, and the calf was not yet weaned.  The vet had advised us to keep the cow alive (which was easy since it was healthy apart from the shoulder-sized lump on its shoulder) until the calf was reasonably old enough to be weaned. Then the cow could be put down.  In fact, the cow was scheduled to be put down that very afternoon (which I knew, and which I told the SPCA officer).  What I didn't know was that the vet had been in the area that morning and had already euthanized the cow before my dad went out to the field.

I told the SPCA officer everything he needed to know and then he left.  I returned to the kitchen to glower at my sister for making me answer the door and deal with her problem cow.  When lunch time came, I took lunch to the field for my dad and told him about the officer's visit (at which point he brought me up to date on the status of the cow - thanks, Dad...).

I don't think we ever heard from the SPCA again.  We had answered their questions, had done everything in consultation with the vet, and were obviously good people who knew how to take care of our animals.  Our only mistake was to keep the cow in the pasture by the highway - the one pasture that happened to be perfect for a cow that couldn't travel far and needed supervision.

I guess I can't blame whoever it was that called the SPCA for doing what they did.  The cow did look pretty bad.  If it was me, I wouldn't want to drive onto a stranger's yard and say, "Hey, what's up with that cow?"  Most farmers are friendly, but I've heard stories of the bad ones.  I wouldn't take that kind of a risk.

Still, I can't help being a little annoyed, even now, almost eight years after this all happened.  Some random person driving past our place saw a cow, decided that we weren't taking proper care of it, and called the SPCA.  This person did not stop to notice that the cow was close to the house, where we could keep an eye on her.  He or she didn't take note of the fact that the cow had food and water easily accessible to her.  They ignored the fact that they had no idea of the cow's history with this lump and it's treatment.  This person just went ahead and called the SPCA to come investigate us.

I understand that people are concerned about animal welfare.  I'm concerned about animal welfare and that's why I take care of my animals - although without knowing me, you wouldn't know that.  Consumers need to understand that healthy, happy animals are more productive.  Even farmers that are only driven by financial gain generally treat their animals well because they understand that principle.

I understand that it's important to protect the privacy of the person who reported the cow to the SPCA, but I still would like very much to meet that person and explain to him or her exactly what was going on with that cow and what went in to the decisions we made in dealing with her.

I understand that it is hard to trust that farmers treat their animals right, because all we ever hear about are the disgusting stories of abuse.  Consumers need to understand that farmers are smart, educated, resourceful, compassionate people.  We know how best to care for our animals, and we do what we know we should.

It's okay to ask questions, to raise concerns, and to want to know more.  It's okay to hold farmers accountable for animal welfare, environmental responsibility, and social responsibility.  We just want you to know that that there are two sides to every story.

Just as a teacher might not know exactly what the dentist is doing, that teacher might not know exactly how her food is raised.  She just knows the basics of each.  She still trusts that the dentist will help her teeth be healthy, and she is free to ask questions of the dentist.  She can trust farmers and their decisions in the same way.  If you have questions and concerns, ask the experts.

I haven't got a picture of the cow from this story, but this is Dopey, a calf who broke his leg, who spent time in the same pasture while he healed.

Don't Fear Your Food: Using Antibiotics as Growth Promotants

This is the last blog post in my series on antibiotics.  If you look back, you'll recall that we have already covered the use of antibiotics to prevent disease and the use of antibiotics to treat and control disease.  Today we'll be talking about the use of antibiotics to promote growth in feeder cattle (cattle that will be slaughtered for meat).  I've pondered for a long time, trying to think of the best way to approach this.  I could approach it from a strictly personal viewpoint, telling you what we do on our farm.  Or, I could approach it from a scientific viewpoint, explaining exactly what these antibiotics do to promote growth within the animals.  I think I'll opt for the middle road, though: I'll tell you what we do, why we do it, and how it works in simple terms.

What Do We Feed Our Cattle?

Here at Ehrenholz Farms, we feed something called monensin to our feeder cattle.  Monensin (also called Rumensin, which is a brand name) is an ionophore and it is fed with the grain (for our cattle either oats or barley).  When we feed it, we have to make sure that we feed the correct ratio of grain to monensin.

When we feed the monensin, we don't just feed pure monensin mixed in with the grain.  I don't even know if it's possible for farmers to get pure monensin (monensin sodium).  The monensin we get is an ingredient in the protein supplement that we feed to the feeder cattle (because protein is a pretty important component of their diets).

The tag that comes with every bag of supplement specifies how much of the supplement should be fed to a calf based on the calf's body weight, and based on how much grain the supplement is mixed with.  For example, the tag tells me the one 300 kg calf should be fed 0.38 kg of supplement per day, and if we were feeding 900 kg barley, we should add 100 kg supplement to the barley and then feed that 300 kg calf 3.8 kg of that mixture.  We don't have nearly enough calves to feed 1,000 kg of feed per day, but we do know that we can mix the supplement with the grain in a 1:9 ratio by weight, so we figure out how much grain we are feeding, and then we know how much supplement to use.  What tools do use to figure that out?  We use good old fashioned pails, a scale, and a calculator (or Dad's head).

A sample of the protein supplement we feed to our cattle and the tag that comes with it to give us feeding instructions.

Why Do We Feed Monensin to Our Cattle?

We feed monensin to our cattle because it helps our calves to be more feed efficient (they grow faster on the feed we give them and use the feed more efficiently, with less waste) and because it has an added benefit of making them more environmentally friendly.  Because of the way it works, monensin also cuts down on the amount of gas produced in the rumen (one of the four sections of a cow's stomach), which may reduce bloat (a potentially fatal condition).

How Does Monensin Promote Growth in Cattle?

As I mentioned earlier, monensin is an ionophore.  Ionophores are classified as antibiotics, but they are not related to human medicine or to the antibiotics we typically use to  treat, prevent, and control disease (although monensin can be used to prevent coccidiosis, a disease that can affect calves of a certain age).

Ionophores work by suppressing certain microbes that live in the animal's rumen.  Since those microbes are suppressed, the microbes that are not affected are able to compete better to increase in number in the rumen.  The microbes that are suppressed are less efficient at breaking down food.  The useful products produced by these microbes are low in energy and carbon (so the animal has less energy and less carbon to use for growth).  The waste product produced by these microbes is methane, which we all know is a major greenhouse gas, and is released by burps and from the rear of the animal.  So what about the microbes that increase while the other ones are being suppressed?  They are far more efficient at breaking down food, putting more energy and carbon into the useful products, and releasing less carbon (and therefore less methane) as waste.  This means the animal has more energy and carbon to use for growing.

How cool is that?!  Not only are there different kinds of microbes that break down food differently, but we are able to control those microbes to help the calves grow more quickly and be environmentally friendly!

I know I probably haven't answered all of your questions on this topic, so feel free to check out the "Further Reading" section and do your own research on this.  And, as always, feel free to leave a comment below or contact me with any questions about how I use antibiotics on my farm.

Further Reading

Explaining Growth Promotants Used in Feedlot Cattle
Worried About Antibiotic Use and Resistance in Cattle?
Canadian Food Inspection Agency: Monensin Sodium
Application of Ionophores in Cattle Diets
The Trials and Troubles of Feeding Monensin to Cattle
Rumensin - Efficacy and Toxicity in Beef Cattle

Dear God, Can We Talk About the Rain?

Dear God,

Can we talk?  To be specific, can we talk about the rain?

Now, I know I prayed for rain last spring.  Lord, you know how much we needed it last year.  The fields were so dry.  We feared that the crops would be scorched and die, if they germinated at all.  Planting season was stressful, you recall, for all the farmers.  Sure, we appreciated being able to get into the fields easily and early, but it was hard to seed to moisture, because there was none.  And when the seeding was done, we prayed.  We fell on our knees and begged you for rain.  The whole community prayed for rain and every Sunday in church, rain was a prominent topic during the congregational prayer time.

Then the fires came.  You know better than anyone, Lord, how many fires burn in the boreal forest just north of my county each summer.  And of course you know better than any of us the important role those fires play in renewing the ecosystem.  But we on earth, we fear those fires, especially when they encroach on our homes.  I don't have to tell you about The Beast, Lord.  That fire crept up on Fort McMurray and the surrounding communities and left devastation in its wake.  You'll recall that I was at a Bible Study retreat at the time.  My family was safe, of course, since we live far away from where the fires were, but there was one girl at the retreat who got the call from her family that they had lost their home.  At the retreat, we all prayed for that family, and we prayed for rain.  Even though I was away from the farm, I was still begging you for rain.  Rain for the crops.  Rain to stop the fires.  Rain to bring hope.

And then it began to rain.  It wasn't enough for the crops.  Nor was it enough to stop the fires.  But it was enough to bring hope.

You remember Lord, probably better than I do, that as time went on, the rain kept coming.  Farmers began to rejoice, because we knew the crops would make it.  Even the fires were brought under control and the residents were allowed to return to their communities.

Still the rain came.  We began to joke that maybe we had prayed too much.  It was getting a bit frustrating to put up hay, because it wouldn't dry.  It just kept raining.

It rained, and rained, and rained.

Then the harvest came.

You blessed my family, Lord.  We got our crops off the fields, as well as all of our hay.  Most of our neighbours were not so fortunate.  Some got their crops harvested late in the year, when the ground was frozen, but as I drive through the county this spring, I can hardly bear to look at the fields.  So many crops are still out there.

We all thought the farmers would just get out into the fields and finish the harvest before planting.  It would be hard, but our neighbours would be okay.

But now, Lord, the rain just keeps coming.  When the rain stops, the snow comes back.  Dad says he's never seen so much mud on our yard.  We're wondering where on earth to put our cattle to get them out of the mud without tearing up the pastures.  And there's no way we'll get into the fields early.  We won't even get into the fields at the regular time.  It'll be a late planting season this year.

I'm trying hard not to complain, Lord.  I know that you are sovereign and in control.  I know that you understand our hurt and worry.  You see me every time I get stuck or fall in the mud (how many dozens of times has that happened this year?  You know the number).  You watched that day I harvested the potatoes in the garden in the rain and mud, throwing half of them back because they had rotted in the waterlogged soil.  You see how the cattle struggle to get through the mud and to stay dry and you see every vehicle that gets stuck in the mud.  You can count the fields that are completely submerged in water and every kernel of grain that has been lost.  Through all of this, you have a plan, though I don't know what it is.

They say this summer is supposed to be hot and dry.  How I want to fall on my knees and beg that it would be so!  But you aren't a short order cook or a weather fairy.  You are so much more than that.

All I ask is that you would work out your will down here on earth.  I know I'm allowed to ask that and I know that you give good blessings to your children.  I also know that often your best blessings come through hardship, because hardship teaches us to rely on you, instead of relying on our own strength.  We've had hardship, Lord.  Could you send the blessings?  Could you let us see your power in our everyday lives?  Could you let our neighbours make it through, even as they trust you for every need?

I'd like the rain to stop, Lord, but I'd rather you send your blessings,
whatever those look like.

In the name of Your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is our Hope,

Amen.

I got the swather stuck on the first day of harvest last year.  Can you see the water sitting in the barley?

Little Adventure

I wasn't going to write a blog post tonight.  In fact, my late afternoon/evening plans had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the computer.  I was going to spend my hours going through old magazines and newspapers, clipping and sorting the articles I wanted to keep, and throwing out the rest.  A couple hours in, at 5:15 pm, I decided that I had better go check the cows.  It's calving season and I check the cows every few hours.  Now, I have two options I can use for checking the cows.  I can do it the old fashioned way by pulling on my boots and trudging out through the mud to check the cows in person.  Or, I can turn on the television, control the camera that's mounted on the back of the barn, and check out what's happening on the straw pile.

At this point in time, I was feeling pretty sprightly, so I decided that a breath of fresh air would be lovely and optimistically pulled on my boots.  When I got to the calving pen, I saw that #67 - a white heifer that I've been watching extra closely for the past couple of days - was calving.  Or had calved.  I wasn't quite sure.

I'm going to get a bit graphic just now.  Normally I wouldn't do this, but this is a key detail in the story.  When a cow is going to calve, the water bag hangs out of her rear end.  After a cow has calved, the afterbirth hangs out of her rear end.  In some cases, these two things can look quite similar.

When I first saw #67, I thought she had already calved.  The stuff at her rear end looked like afterbirth.  But there was no calf.  That is to say, there was no newborn calf.  #67 was enthusiastically licking (or love-mauling) a two-day-old calf belonging to #212.  Certain that she had calved, I searched carefully all over the straw pack, but found nothing.  I checked in the calf shelters, looked around the perimeter of the hay feeder, examined each and every animal in the pen, and slipped through every inch of mud, but found no new calf.  Well,  I thought, I guess she hasn't calved yet.  I'll check back in an hour.

One hour later I turned on the television.  I didn't feel like slopping through any more mud.  I moved the joystick controller around until I had located #67.  She was alone.  That poor little calf she had been licking earlier had escaped to sleep in peace somewhere.  She had either already calved or had made absolutely no progress.  I moved that joystick all over the place, but there was no new calf.  It was time to call Dad, because I just couldn't comprehend what I was seeing (or rather, not seeing).  I was so sure that this heifer had calved, but there was no evidence.  No calf.

I called Dad and explained the situation.  He said it was probably the water bag hanging out.  He would come as soon as he had finished eating dessert, so I pulled on my boots and sloshed through the slush and mud to go see for myself that there was simply no calf.  I also looked carefully at #67.  That ain't no water bag, I thought. 

My dad arrived and we chased #67 into the barn.  Dad put on his calving suit and a long glove and reached into the heifer.  To his surprise (and my "I told you so") there was no calf in there.  We went back outside and scoured every inch of that calving pen.  Still no calf.

Both stumped, we returned to the barn and my dad reached in again, as far as he could go.  Still no calf.

There was only one more place to check.  It was possible - unlikely, but possible - that the newborn calf had slipped under a high part of the windbreak next to the straw pack, and had slid into the adjoining pen.  We had sort of looked out in that direction earlier, but hadn't seen anything.  We would have to go out into that larger pen and walk around until we found something.  Before we even made it to the the gate, my dad looked way out into the pen, down the hill, and said, "Well there's a new calf!"  Indeed, there he stood, a wet little calf just hanging out with a bunch of cows that are nowhere near calving.

We walked out and checked the calf over.  Dad noted, with some surprise, that the calf appeared to have been licked off.  I wasn't surprised.  I mean, if I was a cow and some warm little wiggly thing had slid into my pen from next door, I'd sure go investigate.  When cows investigate, they often lick.  I figure that calf probably had two or three cows licking him off, while his poor confused mama went around licking calves that weren't hers and waking them from a sound sleep.

Dad carried that little calf back up the hill and into the barn, while I opened gates and doors for him.  #67 was quite relieved to have her calf back, and we left them in the barn to get acquainted.

What an adventure it is to have cows.  What an even bigger adventure it is when they calve!

What If You Were Afraid to Eat?

I hate watching/listening to/looking at food-related advertising.  It seems that every time I come across such advertising, there is an undercurrent of fear within it, and that horrifies me.

At first, I wasn't horrified.  I was annoyed, slightly disturbed, and my blood pressure would rise.  But I didn't want to make too big of a deal about it, so I would detach myself and simply write fact-based blogs, or post true food facts on my farm's social media page.  I did what I could to learn the facts of food production so I could inform myself, forming my own opinions and values and basing my practices on those values.  I also wanted to be able counter any misinformation I might come across in general conversation.  

Recently, though, I came across a study that chilled me.  The more I think about it, the greater my horror is.  The  study takes a look at the effect of food marketing on consumer choices, particularly when it comes to marketing that pits organic fruits and vegetables against conventional fruits and vegetables.  The study concluded that consumers are hearing messages that make them afraid to eat conventionally-raised fruits and vegetables, mainly because the organic marketing questions the existence of pesticide residues, etc. on these products that are raised using conventional methods.  

I already knew that consumers were worried about the safety of their food.  The new part that I learned from the study is what sent chills down my back: low-income families and individuals are receiving these marketing messages along with everyone else, but they can't afford to buy organic produce, so they simply don't buy as many fruits and vegetables as they normally would, which means they are not eating as many fruits and vegetables as they need to.

Think about that.  

People aren't getting the nutrition they need because they think their food is going to make them sick.  Furthermore, they can't access or afford to buy the stuff that marketers say is safe.  But the conventionally produced food isn't going to make them sick!  I know this because I grow crops in a conventional manner.  Yes, there are a few minor practices that I don't agree with and don't utilize, but by and large I know that any food I get at a grocery store is safe.

Somewhere in this world, probably in my own county, in your own city or town, is an individual standing in front of a grocery store produce section and making the decision to just skip buying fruits and vegetables because they can't afford the organic stuff and they are afraid to eat the conventional produce.  

What if that person is someone living on disability, who needs a specific diet to keep healthy?  

What if that person is a young mother who is afraid to feed her children these essential, nutritious foods because her family is on a fixed income and she can't afford the organic produce?  

What if that person is a senior citizen living on a government pension?

What if that person is someone in a remote town with limited access to organic produce?  

What if that person is someone you know?

What if that person is your friend or your family member?

What if that person is you?

I feel sick thinking about this.  Even cleaning out the barn didn't get me calmed down about this.  People are afraid to eat some of the most nutritious foods there are.  What are we going to do about this?

I'll tell you what I'm going to do.  I going to keep writing my blogs.  I'm going to keep learning and informing myself.  I'm going to keep using production methods that reflect my values.  And I am not going to fear my food.

Don't Fear Your Food: GMOs Are Not Evil

I was at a bridal shower recently, sitting at a table with three other women, visiting over our refreshments.  To my left was my friend, who grew up in town, but married a farmer this past summer.  Across the table was my friend's mom, and to my right was another lady from church.  Somehow, we began talking about how so many farmers had been harvesting late into the winter this year, because high moisture levels and too many rainy days had kept farmers out of the fields in the fall.  My friend's mom was wondering if someone might discover that crops left to be harvested in the winter actually have some secret benefit that would make them rather valuable.  Her musings went on until this came out of her mouth: "I don't know, maybe the melting snow and all the rain would just wash the GMOs right out of the grain!"  I just barely managed to keep myself from crumpling onto the table in defeat.  Talking isn't my favourite activity, and I certainly had not showed up at that bridal shower prepared to give a lecture on the benefits of GMOs.  Besides, how am I supposed to refute the myth that GMOs are evil when people don't even understand what a GMO is?

A few weeks after the shower, my mom picked up some gluten-free snacks for me since she knew I was having a guest stay at my place that required a gluten-free diet.  She did well, but I now have certified non-GMO stuff in my cupboards, and we had a conversation about the difference between non-GMO and gluten-free, which highlighted to me the fact that many people just don't know what all these fancy new labels mean.

Well, I'm going to try to give my readers a brief look into the world of GMOs today.  I won't go into deep detail, so please check out the "Further Reading" section if you want to know more.  And if you are wondering how to find reliable information regarding GMOs, check out my blog post, "How to Get Accurate Information."

What is a GMO?

GMO stands for "genetically modified organism."  But what does that mean?!

Genetically modified organisms are organisms (living things) that have been modified (changed) from their original form at the genetic level.  In crops, this is achieved through a certain breeding process called transgenesis, or genetic engineering.

Transgenesis occurs when crop breeders take a trait that is found in another plant, and insert the genes associated with that trait into the crop plant they are wanting to modify.  Crop breeders may also "turn off" genes associated with certain characteristics.  Transgenesis is the modification of specific genes to give the plant traits that naturally occur in other organisms.  The changes are predictable and controlled to affect just that one trait in the plant.

So, are scientists just extracting genes from one organism and injecting them into another one?  No.  The plant breeders find the gene for the desired trait in the plant that has the trait, make a copy of that gene, and use it in the plant they are wanting to modify.

Are GMOs Harmful to Human Health?

No.  Scientific studies have proven the following:

• there is no evidence that GMO foods cause
• new allergies
• gluten intolerance
• cancer
• autism
• poisonings
• any other diseases or conditions
• creating or modifying crops through the use of biotechnology is no more risky than doing so through the use of conventional crop breeding techniques
• there is no difference in the nutrition or composition of GM crops, compared to non-GM crops and there is no difference in our ability to digest them

All GMOs that are approved to be sold for food consumption undergo extensive testing to ensure that they are safe.  Some of the tests include tests for allergenicity, digestibility, and toxicity.

What are the Benefits of Using GMO Technology?

Rather than going into great detail that may bore you, I will simply list a number of the benefits of growing GMO crops.  You can check out the details in the "Further Reading" section at the end of this post.

The use of genetically modified crops

• improves soil health
• reduces food waste and loss
• improves air quality when coupled with sustainable farming practices
• helps preserve water
• increases crop yields, which allows us to use less land to grow the crops
• decreases insecticide use

What GMO Crops are Commercially Available?

The following chart tells you which commercially available crops are GMOs and what the modifications achieve:

Keep in mind that not all apples, potatoes, etc. are GMO.  Only some are.

How Long Have People Been Genetically Modifying Crops?

Farmers have been genetically modifying crops for thousands of years, ever since people began to domesticate crops via selective breeding.  However, only crops that have been improved using transgenesis are considered "GMO".

Are There Any GM Animals?

Yes.  Scientists have been working on modifying the genetics of certain animals.  A while ago, there were Enviropigs, which could digest plant phosphorus more efficiently than other pigs.  They were never in the food chain.

Health Canada recently approved as safe for consumption genetically engineered AquAdvantage salmon, which grow twice as fast as conventional Atlantic salmon.

I know this has been a very shallow look into the deeply complex world of GMOs.  Be sure to check out the "Further Reading" section for more information.

Further Reading

GMO Answers - I just discovered this website.  It is dedicated to answering everyone's questions about GMOs.  How awesome is that?!  Especially helpful is the educational resources page.

"The Farmer's Daughter" - This is a blog from a woman in the United States.  She completes the most thorough research I have ever seen in the blogging world before writing her blog posts.  I consider this blogger reliable.

"Uptown Farms" - This is a blog from another woman in the United States.  She and her husband raise GMO corn (and also sheep - to clarify, the sheep are not genetically modified).  She isn't as big on research, but I love to read about her honest "this is how we do it" approach to informing her readers.

"The GMO Labeling Battle" - This is an article by National Geographic outlining how different members of the food industry are responding to calls for mandatory labeling regarding GMO ingredients.  National Geographic isn't my favourite source for well-balanced information, but this particular article is pretty good for looking at how consumers impact the food industry.

Globe and Mail article regarding Health Canada's decision to approve AquAdvantage salmon.

Rough Morning

It is 7:30 on Saturday morning.  I am still in my pajamas, bundled in my heavy overalls and work coat, fighting through drifts that weren't there the last time I was outside.  It is time to check the cows to see if any have calved or are calving.  Actually, it's past time, but I figure everything ought to be okay.  I'll do a quick check and get back inside before my hands get cold.  I neglected to wear my heavy mitts, but for the short time I'll be out here, my gloves with suffice.  The last time I checked, none of the cows seemed close to calving.

I check the cows by the hay feeder first.  If they're eating they're probably okay, but you never know.  Those ones are all fine.  Next, I turn my attention to the far end of the corral, where most of the cows are lying contentedly on the straw pack, chewing their cud.  A few are standing.  One is lying off to the side, where a puddle or ice patch always forms, depending on the temperature.  Right now, it's an ice patch.  I briefly wonder why this cow - no, it's a heifer - is lying way down there, but she's not exactly apart from the others and she's still at least half on the straw.

I walk closer to the group of cows, looking for any signs of a calf or any cow that might be calving.  The heifer that is lying by the ice patch is ignoring me.  Her back is to me and she is looking intently at something that I can't see.

She doesn't have a calf there, does she?  No way.

I walk even closer.  There is definitely something beside that heifer.

A few steps more.  It's a calf.  And it's not moving.

Watching the mother closely, I walk right up to the calf.  The mother stands up and gets out of the way.  She's not the protective type, apparently.

The calf is stretched out on the ice, mouth slightly open, covered in snow.  There is no doubt in my mind that it is dead, but I bend down and nudge it's head to be sure.

Yes, it's dead.  It hasn't been for long.  The body is frozen, but hasn't become stiff yet.

I want to swear.  I can remember only one other time in my life when I wanted to swear.  Choking back the temptation, I leave the calf and walk around the rest of the cows, finishing my check.  No one else needs me right now, so I go into the barn to get out of the wind (my hands are starting to feel a chill), and call my dad.  It's his calf.  He tells me to put it in the calf sled, pull it out of the corral and leave it until he gets there a few a hours later.  I was going to do that anyway.

The calf sled is back across the yard, by the dog kennel, because I usually use it to take straw from the barn to the dog houses.  The dogs chewed the rope handle off of the sled a while ago and I replaced it with some twine.  I soon discover that I made the handle a bit too short, but I don't stop to fix it.  I just want to get this task over with.

Trudging back through the snow, I pull the sled into the corral and over to the calf.  The mother once again gets out of the way.  She doesn't want to leave her baby, but it's like she thinks I can help it.

I ignore her, still keeping one eye on her and all the rest of the cows, of course, because I don't want to die today.  Hoping the calf won't be frozen to the ground, I pull on it's front legs.  It is frozen down.

Sighing, I slowly work to pry the frozen body from the frozen ground.  Fortunately, it is not frozen down too badly.  Like I said, the calf hadn't been dead very long.  Maybe an hour, maybe two.  I should have checked earlier.

Once the calf is released from the ice that holds it to the cold ground, I lift it into the sled.  First the front end, then the back end.  The mother watches my efforts with interest.  Stupid animal.  She should have calved on the straw.  I should have come out earlier.  I could have put her in the barn before she calved.

I sigh away the tears that threaten.  I learned a long time ago that it's not worth it to cry over animals.

Leaving the dead calf in the quonset, where dogs and coyotes aren't likely to get at it, I return to the house.  Maybe later I'll do a necropsy on the calf to determine if it was born dead or if it died later.  I hope it was born dead.

In the house I pull off my boots, coat, and overalls.  I rub warmth back into my hands - I should have worn the heavy mitts - and go upstairs to change into my work clothes.  I have already decided to skip breakfast, so there's no point keeping my pajamas on.  Normally I would hate to skip breakfast, but there's something about prying the frozen body of a calf off of a patch of ice that ruins one's appetite.

I might as well just get chores done and then I can spend the rest of the day inside, only going outside periodically to check the cows.  I begin to plan my day.  I can do some baking, prepare my Sunday School lesson for tomorrow, do that necropsy if I can find the sharp knife - oh, and Mom is coming over this afternoon so we can discuss landscaping options for my parents' new house.

Little do I know that while doing chores I will discover that none of the cattle waterers are working.  I will spend time and energy trying to get just one fixed, flipping breakers and pouring warm water over the waterers in an effort to unfreeze them - if indeed they are frozen.  I will finally give up with the knowledge that the cows can eat snow until Dad gets home from his curling tournament.

Those tears that were so easily sighed away earlier will run freely down my cold cheeks.  I should have checked the cows earlier.  Why aren't the waterers working?  Why don't I know how to fix them?  Dad should have taught me this before now.  My frustrations and mental accusations will build up to be released in tears and sobs, in between glances at the driveway to make sure no neighbours are dropping in that might see me crying.

Eventually, my dad will come home, fix the problem (which is in the pump house, not at the waterers), and leave me slightly calmer.  Mom will feed me lunch and we will have our landscaping discussion.  I will get some baking done and prepare my Sunday School lesson.  The necropsy will wait for another day.

Every farmer has rough days, when it seems like everything breaks or goes wrong.  Those days are frustrating, but the worst are the ones that start rough, because when you've discovered deep drifts, a dead calf, and three waterers that are down for the count, and it's only 9:00 in the morning, there is no light at the end of that tunnel.

Don't Fear Your Food: Using Antibiotics to Prevent Disease

Using antibiotics to prevent disease is not in my sphere of expertise.  I do know a little about it, but antibiotics are not used to prevent disease on cow/calf operations nearly to the extent as in feedlots, for example.  So, this post may be slightly less informative than the others, but be sure to check out the "Further Reading" section at the end if you want to know more.

Preventing disease is hugely important in any livestock operation.  Have you ever wondered why the general public aren't allowed in hog barns?  It's because people carry a lot of diseases that are deadly to pigs.  All responsible farmers do their very best to prevent disease, because it is expensive to treat disease later on, and because we just don't want to see our animals die or be sick.  There are a number of different tools that farmers can use to prevent disease, including implementing bio-security measures (like the hog barns), feeding high quality feed for good nutrition, vaccinating the herd against disease, reducing the risk of physical injury, and using antibiotics for prevention.  Today I will focus on the use of antibiotics for disease prevention.

The most common occurrence of using antibiotics to prevent disease is when cattle are shipped to a feedlot.  The calves have reached a stage of maturity that allows them to live on regular feed without needing their mothers' milk, so they are weaned from their mothers, vaccinated (a common protocol on cow/calf operations is to vaccinate at weaning), loaded onto a truck, and sent to the feedlot.  

It's like when teenagers leave home for college.  They no longer have access to their mothers' cooking, they are stressed out, far from home, and are mixing with a whole bunch of other germ-carrying, stressed out teenagers who aren't eating properly any more.  At the beginning of college (and after breaks, like Reading Week or Christmas break), all of the students, especially the ones living in residence, get sick.  I know.  I spent six years observing and experiencing this phenomenon.  

Back to the calves: these calves are coming from many different farms and herds, each with its own stockpile of germs.  The calves don't eat right because they are stressed out and then they get sick.  Then the feedlot guys have to deal with a whole lot of sick cattle.

What are the feedlot guys to do?  They take measures to prevent disease.  One way of doing this is to automatically give antibiotics to every calf coming in to the feedlot.  That way, any calves that are already sick, but not showing symptoms yet, get treated and won't be as likely to spread the disease.  Also, any calves who might catch a disease from a sick calf a few days in have an extra boost, feel better, and start off eating better.  All around, the calves feel better and are healthier.

But isn't it dangerous to have antibiotics floating around in calves that will soon become someone's meal?  Remember, all animals that are given antibiotics must go through a withdrawal period before they are butchered.  This allows enough time for the antibiotic residues to totally pass out of the animal's system before it is slaughtered.  All Canadian meat is antibiotic-free, then.

Doesn't such use of antibiotics increase resistance, though?  Yes.  Bacteria are becoming resistant to certain antibiotics.  Because of this, it is becoming more difficult to access certain antibiotics, especially ones that related to antibiotics used in human health.  In order to access these antibiotics, farmers and feedlot operators need to consult with veterinarians to determine what to use to still be able to prevent disease, and to avoid causing the tools they use to become ineffective (which is what happens when bacteria become resistant to antibiotics).  The good news is that research is being done to find alternative methods of preventing disease in livestock, which means that antibiotics will not need to be used for prevention and they will not need to be used as often for treatment, because livestock won't be getting sick in the first place!

Any industry has room for improvement.  The beef industry has recognized that the practice of using antibiotics to prevent disease, while currently effective, is not going to be good in the long term.  That is why various organizations are working to find more tools for preventing disease, and why other tools are being relied on more heavily (like bio-security measures and low-stress weaning techniques).  Over time, the livestock industry will change to reflect the use of these new methods.  Until then, we still need to use the tools we have right now to keep our animals healthy.

Remember Dopey?  He survived the broken leg and subsequent infection, but died later from a different disease that infected our herd.  Once we figured out why our calves were dying, we were able to take the proper measures to prevent other calves from getting the disease.  That meant vaccinating them to prevent disease so that we would not have to use antibiotics for treatment later.

Further Reading

Video: Learn About Antibiotic Use in Livestock

Video: What Beef Producers Need to Know about Antimicrobial Use and Resistance

Video: Does Using Antibiotics in Cattle Lead to Resistance in Humans?

Video: Antimicrobial resistance: antibiotics in the livestock sector and their impact on public health

Does the use of antibiotics in food animals pose a risk to human health?

Worried About Antibiotic Use and Resistance in Cattle?

Beef Cattle Research Council article on Antimicrobial Resistance

Antibiotic Resistance in Canadian Livestock

The Livestock Industry and Antibiotic Resistance

The Smells of the Farm

It is some unearthly hour of the morning.  In spite of the stifling heat, I have somehow managed to sleep for a few hours.  Now something is pulling me back into the realm of consciousness.  Why am I waking up?  The dogs are barking, but that's nothing new.  Something is wrong.  Something is horribly, unspeakably wrong and it is pulling me out of blissful slumber.

I am suffocating, gagging on...on...something.  A few moments of struggle bring me to full consciousness and I soon realize that the something that has wakened me and is stealing my breath is a smell.  It is an odour I have never smelled before (so my sleep- and oxygen-deprived brain tells me).  Certain that I and my parents are in mortal danger of the house blowing up at any moment (even though I have already determined that the odour is neither natural gas nor sewer gas), I stumble down the stairs to my parents room.  The smell is even worse on the main level of the house.

"Dad.  Dad.  DAD!"  Oh no, it's too late.  They've already succumbed.  Before bolting out of the house to save myself, I try one more time.  "DAD!!"

A snort and groan assure me that my parents are, at the very least, still alive.  "Whaaat?"

"Dad there's a weird smell and I don't know what it is and you need to check the basement because I don't know what I'm looking for."  At 24 years old, I ought to know this sort of thing by now, but I don't.  My parents, still trying to wake up, have no idea what I'm going on about.  It takes a little more explaining, but my dad finally gets out of bed.  As he reluctantly follows me out of the room, my mom makes the most absurd pronouncement I have ever heard: "I think it's skunk."  It can't possibly be skunk.  I've smelled skunk before.  It's a common enough smell around the farm.

After what seems like an eternity of standing in that awful stench, my dad - who I'm sure has gone down to the basement just to please me, and not because he's actually taking our imminent deaths seriously - returns to the main floor to inform me that the basement smells absolutely fine and he thinks Mom is right.  Clearly the stench is getting to his brain.  I watch skeptically as he sticks his head out the front door.  Within a couple of seconds he is reeling back inside from the powerful odour.  it is even stronger outside and, yes, it is skunk.

Slightly bewildered, I help my dad close all the windows in the house (to keep out the stench that's already in) and return to bed, gagging until I finally fall into a fitful slumber.

Every farm kid knows what skunk smells like, but when your house has been doused in it, it's barely recognizable. There are innumerable smells that farm kids can identify in an instant, and some that take us a bit longer to place.

I've already mentioned natural gas and sewer gas.  Those are both dangerous.  We don't encounter those very often.  It's the gross smells that are more common:

• skunk 
• manure (not so bad in the field, but pretty nasty if it's concentrated in a barn)
• dead stuff (mice in the walls, cattle in the deadstock pile, random critters in the bush) 
• gasoline and diesel (some people like those smells - I don't) 
• moldy feed 
• rotten stuff in the garden
• and a few other odours I can't think of just now.

Lest my readers think it's all bad, let me list a few of the more pleasant smells from the farm:

• sweat (not gross teenage boy sweat, obviously; the smell of clean sweat reminds me of my dad)
• fresh cut hay (it's like mowed grass, but more so)
• the barn (the one with clean straw and kittens in it, not the type of barn where a lot of cows hang out all together)
• good quality silage (my sister hates the smell of all silage, but if it's not rotting, I quite like it)
• the clean air smell after it rains (I know that happens in the city, too, but it's even nicer on the farm)
• lilacs in the front yard

There are probably some scents I haven't listed because I don't know they exist.  For some reason, there are certain things I just can't smell.  I've been told tansy has a strong smell.  No matter how much I shove my nose in a tansy plant, I smell nothing.  But for those of you who don't live on a farm, this is an idea of what the farm smells like.  For those of you who have been on the farm, what is your favourite (or least favourite) smell?