Compost

"Compost is my religion."-Anonymous

I think death is one of the hardest things for humans to process. And when we're faced with it we don't know what to do. In general I've been lucky and spent my younger years ignorant to what it's like to know someone that dies. But 2.5 years ago, a really close family friend (my parents' best friend) drowned on vacation in Puerto Rico. And then about a month ago my next door neighbor's son, his wife, and 2 baby children died in a plane crash in Belize. Rick, my parent's best friend, was one of the best. Always there to give advice or lend a hand, the kind of guy that would literally give you the shirt off his back. I didn't really know my next-door neighbor, but I've heard really good things. He and his wife taught English at a small school in Belize and raised money to give these kids the things that we here in the US of A take for granted. They were idealistic, fighting the good fight, doing their best with what they had.

Last year when I was in Israel, I lived with Israelis and Palestinians while their people were fighting a war against each other. It was one of the most horrible, horrific experiences of my life. People with more similarities than differences killing each other because they thought (and by and large still think) that it is their only option, that there is no possibility of a logical solution. That there is only hope in death.

And now I am living on a farm surrounded by the new life that accompanies the first weeks of spring. The birth of baby lambs, newborn chicks that arrive by mail (!!!), baby ducklings, hens and geese sitting on fertilized eggs, wild leeks that grow taller every day, beans and peas sprouting in the hoophouse, lettuce, eggplants, and peppers in the greenhouse, and greens galore that survived the winter, warm under the blanket of snow covering the fields. Of course there is death too. The death of baby lambs that weren't strong enough to survive. The death of chicks trampled by their bigger siblings. Death of a skunk, shot by Jen so that it wouldn't kill her chickens. And the death of a pheasant taken in by the local animal hospital, that just didn't make it.

Life and death are all around us. We try not to pay attention unless it's one of our own, but it's always there, and at some point in our lives we are forced to think about it. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and here's what I've come up with. Of course I don't expect you to agree or disagree with me, but I hope you will give my words a chance. It's been a long time since I've believed in heaven or hell. When somebody close to us dies, it makes us feel good to believe that somewhere out there, over the rainbows, our loved ones are eating tons of ice cream, being let in on the secrets of this world, and spending time with those we lost before them. But really, what are the chances? More likely, and in fact truthfully, when any living thing dies it becomes compost, nutrients that are given back to the earth to nourish the growth of new life forms that are constantly being born. And so there it is. Back into the earth we go, black, white, Palestinian and Israeli alike, lamb, spider, and skunk too, and our bodies become the building blocks of new living things. I believe that we have spirits (souls), and that they as well become part of new life. It is a continuous cycle and the great part about it is that little pieces of us remain alive in the bodies and souls of those that come after us. We are eternal. And maybe death isn't so scary.

It's still hard for me to process all the senseless killing that goes on in this world, and I don't really ever think that I will understand it. From cutting down trees, to killing spiders in our kitchens, to genocides and holocausts, it just doesn't really make any sense. At what point did we decide that fighting for (or just enjoying) our own lives could be in killing others? I have no answers.

And it's hard for me to just enjoy the life around me and the life inside of me while stil thinking about all this death, but I am. I am processing it slowly. But one thing, I think I can truly believe in is compost. It is the most beautiful bridge between life and death.

Lessons on the Farm

"Cat, I'll let you in on a little secret. Doing something you have a passion for doesn't make the work part any easier. It just makes you less likely to quit."-The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs

"My whole life has been spent waiting for an epiphany, a manifestation of God's presence, the kind of transcendent, magical experience that let's you see your place in the big picture. And that is what I had with my first compost heap."-Bette Midler

What I have learned on the farm so far:

1. You must be willing to touch shit. Cow shit, pig shit, chicken shit, sheep shit...all kinds of shit. If you are afraid of getting shit on yourself, you will not make it on the farm. At the end of most days I am covered in shit and smell like shit. My clothes smell like shit. My car smells like shit. My hair smells like shit. You must like the smell of shit.

2. Shit is heavy. Especially when wet.

3. You will fall down. Literally. Probably while carrying shit. If you're lucky it won't fall on your face. I've been lucky. Last week Jenn, the two apprentices from last year that were visiting, and I cleaned out a year's worth of shit and hay from one of the sheep pens. The shit and hay was matted down and caked together. We spent about 6-8 hours over 2 days pitchforking it out. When a wheelbarrow was full to the brim with shit and hay we had to lug it out to the manure pile. The first day, it rained. The wheelbarrow slipped and slid down the ramp that first time I brought it out. I fell 3 times and didn't realize until later that I had ripped my pants all the way down the back. Since then I have fallen many more times while wheeling the wheelbarrow down to the manure pile. Some during a rain storm and some on a sun-shining day. But my muscles are growing....which brings me to my next point.

4. You will realize that you have more strength, energy, endurance, confidence, and capabilities then you ever thought possible. Farm work is hard. The days are long. You never get everything done that you plan to do in a day. But you do a lot. And if you're like me that is a significant change from your normal life. By lunchtime I am tired. By 3:30 I am exhausted. And when it comes time to do chores at 5, I would rather do anything in the world than throw down bales of hay, gather grain, and fill up buckets of water to feed the animals. Of course there is no choice but to do it, so I do it. And it gets done. And I survive. And the sense of accomplishment is pretty darn sweet.

5. Animals are smarter than we (or at least I) think (thought) they are (were). I mentioned the bottle-feed lambs and Squirt specifically in my last blog. I think I mentioned that he recognizes his name. When you come to feed him and call out his name he will come to you. When you feed him he wags his tail. Two days ago the sheep were in a huge pen outside, about 500 ft from the farmhouse. In the morning when Jenn woke up and walked outside Squirt was standing at the door to the house. That means that Squirt found a way to escape from the pen, figured out how to get to the farmhouse (he had been taken there only once before-weeks ago) and that that is where he could find the people that could feed him. The next day, the sheep were in a pen inside. When Anna, the new apprentice and I, went to go clean the chick brooder, I could hear a lamb screaming but couldn't see it at first. I went into panic mode thinking there was a lamb in the chick brooder. When I pulled back the cover on the chick brooder, there was Squirt wedged between the chick brooder and the wall. Apparently he was hungry and was trying to find a way to get out to come find us to feed him. Clearly Squirt's brain is larger than the size of a pea and there is something significant going on in there. I don't think that Squirt is smarter than most sheep. I think he just has a tougher life than most sheep on Fat Rooster Farm. He is the only sheep so far this season whose mother completely rejected him, therefore his only source of food has been humans. So, while most baby lambs have had their source of food (their mothers) close to them from birth, Squirt has had to struggle to figure out how to eat when he is hungry and there is nobody around to feed him. He is constantly in survival mode and that forces him to do things that sheep don't normally do, but are probably capable of doing (i.e. recognizing their name, finding their food source, even if it isn't close by, readily available, or obvious as to what it is). Pretty, pretty cool!

6. Six is compost. You'll have to stay tuned for that one because I am falling asleep...which brings me to rule number seven.

7. Sleep is precious. You will never get enough of it.

Welcome to Fat Rooster Farm

"Where I lived and what I lived For."-Thoreau

I now live on a dirt road in the middle of Vermont in the attic of one of the most eccentric houses I've ever been in. The only heat is from wood-burning stoves. There is no refrigerator. The house looks like 3 houses that just happen to be fit together. This is not the farm. The farm is about a mile down the road. Getting there in my car during mud season has been somewhat of a dangerous venture. My car swerves during the day and only calms down at night and in the early morning when the ground is frozen.

I don't think I have adjusted to the schedule yet. The first night I was here I could not fall asleep and then woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall back asleep. I got up at 6am and drove over to the farm. Newborn lambs needed to be fed. Shannon, an apprentice from last year taught me how. It's lambing season and since I have been here lambs have been born almost everyday. We bottle-feed lambs that have either been rejected by their mother or ones for which their mother does not have enough milk to feed all of her babies. I have taken a particular liking to the one named squirt and that I renamed squirt alert. When you feed him his tail wags vigorously. He can barely concentrate on feeding and stops sucking on the bottle every 30 seconds. His mother completely rejected him so he thinks whoever is feeding him is his mother. He now looks up when you call his name which is quite endearing. He runs to you everytime he sees you have come with a warm bottle full of lamb formula. Then there are the triplets. Their mother doesn't have enough milk for all 3 so we have been supplementing it with formula. 2 of the lambs didn't looks so good so we brought them up to the house to lay in front of the fire. Yesterday one died. He was sick and there was nothing we could do to help him. The other one still sitting by the fire is most likely going to die. He is a week old or so and can't walk and shudders constantly. The ewe that gave birth to the triplets will be slaughtered this summer because apparently this is the second year in a row that she has given birth to runts that didn't make it. I love the sheep. I love feeding them. I love watching them. The 2 week old babies run and jump and play. I love squirt. I wish he wasn't a male.

On Thursday we planted beans, peas, carrots, radishes, onions, and lettuce in the hoop house. We used a seeder which basically has a different attachment for different sized seeds and knows how far apart to space each type. When you push it digs a hole, plants the seed and covers it up. It's a pretty neat little contraption. Things learned: peas don't like onions and won't produce fruits if planted near onions. Carrots and radishes can be planted in the same row. By the time the carrots are ready the radishes will have been long since harvested.

Other activities have included cleaning animal pens, watching 2 pigs get slaughtered, and chores-feeding the animals twice a day. So much has happened and I have only been here for 4.5 days. It's crazy to think that I was sitting at home doing next to nothing less than a week ago and now here I am an apprentice on a small but diversified farm. I'm looking forward to having sore muscles every night, being exhausted, going to sleep early and waking up early. The farm is beautiful, still covered by a thin layer of snow. Today it rained and fog hung low in the air. For the first time in my life I am surrounded by animals and they are so full of love. The animals are helping me adjust to the farm, showing affection and keeping loneliness at bay while I get to know the farm family and before the apprentices I will be working with get here.

This feels right. What I was hoping for. There is so much to learn so many new experiences yet to be had. Spring cannot come soon enough.