It was a lazy afternoon… The cicadas were thrumming in the background, as I hopped from shade tree to shade tree, to get out of the hot sun. The scent of freshly mowed hay filled my olfactory senses, intoxicating me like a drug. I made my way along the brook’s bank, stopping and peering down on it, listening to it trickle. Bumbling on its way to the river, it…
I love the smell of manure. I don’t get to smell it every day like I used to. Friday, when I was walking to the post office, I was caught off guard a bit by the familiar smell that wafted into my nasal cavity. It was like an old friend. But where was it coming from? It is not a typical smell in the village of Greenwich. It…
Ever seen one of these? I would be shocked if you hadn’t. They are a staple on our farm– a calling card. The yellow Genex Breeding Card. Never throw one out. It might have a valuable piece of information on it, scrawled in hen scratch, smeared with grease and oil–even an occasional splat of manure. On my home farm, my uncle was famous for using brown paper towels as…
Memorial Day Weekend in New Hampshire. Nestled up near the Canadian border, Pittsburg sits unassuming. It’s crufty, worn, and strong like the old barns that dot its landscape. The old barns are a nod to the farming landscape that used to be abundant, vibrant, and thriving as a way of life. Every year I get to trek up to this country. I think about the family members I…
The decision has been made, and a deep sadness permeates everything. There are visions of what life will be, how life will feel. Emptiness. The last headlock clanks, and the pump stops. Silence fills every space on the farm. A final cow is loaded, and the truck and trailer head down the laneway and out the gate. It’s over. The feed wagon will sit idle, and the birds…
For four short days every year, when I was a teenager, I became part of something bigger. It was bigger than me when I was 15. It is bigger than me today, at 47. Eastern States Exposition. New England’s premier agricultural fair. Every year, our state (New Hampshire), along with the five other New England states, sent a delegation of 4-H youth and their dairy cows down to…
It’s time for the fair! Once this hits your inbox, we will already be moving the cows in, shaking the flakes of hay out, and raking the alleyway for herdsmanship. Below is a piece I wrote years ago. It was prompted because one of the FFA leaders was looking for a garden gnome to complete their display at the fair. The request gave me pause to think and recollect…
It was a sweet, summer night, early in August. The air was perfect as the sun was beginning to get low in the sky. The call came in during evening office hours. The farmer had a down heifer, up in Northfield, and needed the doc to come up and take a look. Donna was the vet on call that night; I was 18. Matt, the vet student, was…
Last week I took a trip to Iowa to visit the Iowa Soybean Association. I introduced them to the concept of finding the best donut in Des Moines (Bethany and Lydia were very good sports), and they introduced me to 2 of their farmers and Iowa soybeans. The trip was about overseas markets and the economic environment here. We talked about fuel costs and fertilizer costs and the…
Once a day, once a week, or once a month. It’s an event to be marked, especially when performed with family members. Moving animals. Reading the moods ahead of time doesn’t seem to matter, as you know, dispositions are likely to change on a dime. It is nearly impossible to anticipate all of the loopholes that an animal or herd of animals will find. Some days it’s like…
0
