Farming for Justice

The correct answer is inside the comfy, safe nest boxes Hannah and Susan built. That’s where I find at least four brown eggs every day. However, the Ameraucana (which lays blue eggs) has decided she would rather dispense hers somewhere in the woods. It’s been two days since I have found a blue egg. Looking all over the place, under rocks, inside sheds, even on the ground, her eggs are nowhere to be found.                                 My hens have lost their full-day outdoor privileges. They will stay inside their coop until noon, or after they have laid some eggs. It’s so hard to be mad at the beautiful ladies.

We bought six laying pullets from a nearby farm: 2 Rhode Island Reds, 2 Barred Rocks, 1 Ameraucana, and 1 Buff Orpington. The flock is very tight and sticks together as they scratch and peck on the forest floor. They also recognize me and come running over whenever I come by to check on them.

Other than the blue egg layer’s game, they are wonderful chickens. Each egg has it’s own color, texture, and size. As they get older, the eggs will get bigger. They each lay about an egg every day or every other day. I share the gifts with Susan and Glynis and they bring up food scraps for the girls.

I don’t have to haul my big bucket of food waste to the compost anymore—I can hardly keep up with what they will eat. Inside their coop they have organic grain from Lightning Tree Farm in NY State, water, oyster shells, 3 nest boxes, 2 roosts, and I bring them whey from our cheese.

We bought electric poultry fencing from Wellscroft Farm in Harrisville, NH. They fly right over it, so it turns out to be useless for our set up. Also, any predator could climb a tree or the roof and jump in to the fencing easily. So, we will use it for the meat birds this summer. Alas, they are truly free range chickens going anywhere they please.

So far, the woods have been kind to us and we have not lost any of them to predators. I try to be home when they are outside and I always lock them inside at night. As soon as the sun begins to set, they gather on their roosts and wait for me to shut the door and say goodnight.

I love the noises they make. I feel so calm sitting nearby on a rock watching them happily peck and scratch the ground. What are they finding in these dense woods? Insects? Worms? Larvae? It’s another lovely exchange between humans and livestock. I take good care of them and they provide my eggs. They are slightly different than a conventionally raised egg in several ways. High protein, fresh, never been refrigerated, high in Omega 3’s, lower in saturated fat, lower in cholesterol, and school bus yellow yolks.

Last season I didn’t arrive to the farm until mid May so I missed the start up period. So far, this season is all new to me. There are so many changes in such a short amount of time between March and April. We have had almost 100 baby goats born and we only keep 10, so the rest are either at another farm/homestead, Easter dinner, or someone’s pet. The does that are freshening currently get to be with their babies longer because we aren’t bottle-feeding anymore. It’s fun watching them nurse and romp around the barn with all the older goats. It’s like a big party uniting all generations: kids, yearlings, adults, elders.

We’re milking close to 40 and have enough milk to add a third vat to pasteurizing. The cheese is divine: rich, creamy, flavorful, the best of the season says Susan. After they freshen their milk is high in fat in order to ensure a healthy baby, therefore, our cheese is higher in fat to ensure a happy consumer. I have been eating a lot of chévre every day and I am convinced it only has positive benefits.

One morning I came down to the barn and noticed a cup of white mush on the counter. “What is this?” I asked Susan. Her answer enticed me to scoop up a bit on my finger and place it in my mouth. Whipped cream. “You know how foam often collects near waterfalls?” she calls from the other room. “It is the cream that gathered on top of the bulk tank from the paddle mixing the milk all night.” Naturally whipped cream from fresh goat milk before work reminds me how much I love working here.

As milk production increases, so does the goat’s feed. They devour 1 ½ bales of alfalfa each morning and night and almost have unlimited grain. Overall they are looking really good, but infrequent high temperatures and wet poops worries us. After all, what is farming without worry? I admire how Susan handles each goat’s medical needs. Some get penicillin, so we can’t use their milk for a few days. Others take a homeopathic remedy that we can even pop in our mouths for general health. Or, a shot of vitamin B or calcium does the trick. Generally, just time to recover is all they need.

It’s difficult figuring out animal health because they can’t talk to us like humans. We spend a lot of time guessing, running lengthy tests, or waiting to see if conditions improve. Last week was, “Audrey, tell us what’s wrong so we can make you better!” Then, “Yearlings, why aren’t you eating your grain?” Now it’s “Mistletoe, why aren’t you producing any milk?” Miraculously, most of the time they heal and are stronger than ever in a few days, with the help of Susan’s dedication and knowledge of course.

Clara, Kiki, Cardida, Jiggy, Clove, Edie, Myrtle, Daphne, and Ivy are the keepers names. Well, honestly, it’s hard to all agree on names so some aren’t set in stone and the white goat doesn’t have a name yet (I like Esperanza, but Glynis says it’s too long to write on a tag). Each name has been chosen from the mother’s line of names such as spices, constellations, vines, movie stars, etc. It’s very exciting getting to know each one and watch them grow so fast. Pretty soon we’ll move them to the big kid pen outside and take them for walks in the woods.

Spring is moving us along quickly. We take advantage of the long warm days to do yard-work and prepare the garden. Inside, we’ve started tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, bok choy, eggplant, and onions from seed.

Flora updates are daffodils, ramps, forsythia, and buds on trees. Fauna update is I had the honor of watching a wild turkey fight yesterday afternoon while working on the chicken coop. About 10 toms kicked and jumped on one another making such a racket I thought there was a pack of coyotes devouring a dead animal.

I am getting eight laying hens tomorrow so we will have our own eggs! I just got back from the Tractor Supply store with my materials and we’re about ready to pick up the birds and introduce them to their new home. I have never raised chickens before, so this is all very exciting.

Today I went for a walk in the woods behind the cabin in search of ramps (wild onions). “Look for the large oak tree and the valley below it you may find some down there,” suggests Susan. She was right! I was surprised by how many ramps spread across the small valley. The soil was moist and dark brown. It numbed my fingers after digging for a while since it has been so cold at night. I rinsed my hands in the brook and dried them on soft moss before heading back home. Sauteed in butter with mushrooms, ramps are a special early spring treat.

It’s hard to imagine that one month ago I was traveling down the California coast preparing to drive back east on Route 10 with the anticipation of visiting New Orleans. Now, I’m sitting in the cabin with Oliver as if we’ve been here all along. It’s like we never left. Plugging back into working at Rawson Brook Farm has been full of new experiences already.

First, the weather is a bit different from the southwest. It was sunny when I moved back allowing for a wonderful blueberry pruning party on Sunday, but then it turned to freezing rain and cold temperatures. The mud is upon us and will only get worse. I limit the number of trips up and down the driveway, which is actually fine with me since I have no desire to drive anywhere after a 12,000 mile trip.

March 13 was our first due date and the babies just keep coming more and more each day. We have over 80 kids from the 35 that have freshened, meaning given birth. It varies as to how many each goat has- one, twins, triplets, quads, or quintuplets. Andi had quintuplets last night! Clara was the cutest girl yet and we’re keeping her for sure . We are feeding the kids three times per day- first by individual bottles with nipples, then we add a straw to prepare them for the lamb-bar which they eventually graduate to when they move to the other pen.

Holding a warm, wet newborn is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. They are so fragile, yet often begin walking within minutes of taking that trip down the birth canal. As I wipe the kid off with a towel before putting it into the warm box, I say, “Welcome to this world, little one.”

The hardest part is separating the baby from its mother before they get too attached. We don’t let them nurse from their mother’s teat because then they won’t know how to drink from a bottle. This is where the business side of the dairy production is prioritized. A long time ago, Susan would allow each kid to nurse, but it was so confusing and many of the kids would nurse from other mothers. Kids would be fought over in the barn. When the time came to make cheese with the milk, mom and kid cried so loud and were very upset. A constant headache I’m sure. It was nearly impossible to train them to be milked on the stand twice a day when their longing for the child was so deep. While it would be lovely to be in line with the natural processes of reproduction, it is not practical at this scale.

Susan warned me it would start to feel like a factory with so many births at once and babies to bottle-feed. There were a couple of days when my stomach felt tight and my adrenaline rushed as I had to quickly learn how organize each kid’s milk and make sure they weren’t over fed. This is the first year Susan is matching mom’s milk to babies in hope of preventing CAE, a form of arthritis that can be passed down through colostrom. Once we got our system in place, the process was much smoother and I could relax a bit.

I feel very alive and happy to be working again after a long time away from farming. New beginnings are everywhere as spring is here once again. The births of over 100 kids will surely prepare me for another season at Rawson Brook Farm.

Welcome longer days. Welcome back birds. Welcome soft ground beneath the snow. Welcome buds on trees. Welcome tee shirts and iced tea. Welcome baby goats, welcome to this world.

After spending a week in the San Francisco area visiting friends, it still hadn’t quite hit me that I was on the other side of the country. It wasn’t until I pulled off Route 1 and walked along the ocean side that I realized I couldn’t drive any further west. I made it to my destination.

The Pacific Ocean. It is such a sensitive ecosystem that provides us with so much sustenance. When I think of the ocean my first thought is seafood. Yes, food is usually on my mind no matter where I am or who I am with. Having the opportunity to be so close to the origins of shrimp, oysters, muscles, fish, lobster, scallops, and crab, I couldn’t help but indulge…just a little.

Dinner reservations for four on February 5 at Chez Panisse were made one month in advance. A four course meal of local, seasonal, sustainably raised food pared with three wines (two white, one red) was a perfect way to celebrate the trip’s furthest west destination.

It’s always a sweet surprise waking up in a new place after arriving at dark. The steep one lane road leading down from Rt. 1 into a primitive campsite near Mt. Tamalapis State Park and Muir Woods was quite a thrill in the fog. As I wheel-barrowed our gear to campsite #6, I caught two sets of eyes in my headlamp about 15 feet away. They did not sway or blink, which gave me the shivers. What kind of animal is all the way down here and not afraid of me? Two young fawns I concluded from the faint white tail. I gave my Mom the heads up in case she saw the eyes in the night and made a b-line for the car out of fright.

The fierce waves crash into the coast as we crawl into the tent. “This is as close as we can get to camping by the sea,” she whispers as not to disturb the peepers who gladly serenade us to sleep.

I called Susan as we exited from the highway to Monterey to tell her I’m in town, but it was very different than what I could remember. “There’s lots of ocean, no snow, and it’s a mild temperature,” I said. “Quite the opposite of the Monterey we live in back in Massachusetts.” She was the third person who urged us to check out the aquarium, so we did.

Environmental stewardship was a major theme at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. When we first entered, a young women was showing a crowd of 75 people how much plastic was pulled out of a dead albatross’ stomach. I engaged in a long conversation with the man behind the seaweed display about feeding goats kelp, which eventually turned into deconstructing the industrial food system. When we left, our pockets were full of small brochures about which kinds of fish are OK to eat and our mood was somber. Such rare beauty under the sea, and to think it’s being so heavily damaged by people. Fragile, fragile ocean full of great diversity.

The momentum of my trip picked up quickly and I have been on the go since my last post. The computer became less of a priority while we explored the parks, forests, and coasts. Stunning beauty has surrounded me for the last few weeks. The earth is quite an artist! These images make me want to study geology.

From Arches Craig and I headed to Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah. It was too snowy to visit Canyonlands, so we departed for an 8,000 foot canyon west of Moab. Sounds silly, I know, but we thought we’d drive through the storm to the other side. With good tires on my car, I was very confident. So, we rolled up to the Best Western of Bryce Canyon just before the sun set in a blizzard. After a dip in the heated pool and a soak in the hot tub, we hardly cared that there was two feet of snow accumulating outside.

The perfect day for snow-shoeing into the canyon, wouldn’t you agree?

A herd of desert big horn sheep (no, not goats) greeted us as we arrived in Zion National Park. Dropping 4,000 feet into the valley, we were glad to leave the snow behind.

I love tunnels. I love driving through tunnels, blasting my music, pretending I’m in a sleek car commercial. Zion has a mile and a half long tunnel, so I had about three minutes to fully enjoy the tunnel through the mountain. I may have driven through it more than once.

Ah yes, driving on paved roads through America’s National Parks…that is another topic I’ll save to discuss next time. It’s an important one that I’ve thought about a lot. Our country is too accessible via automobile. One scary abbreviation: RV.

When I used to hear the word Nevada, all I thought of were casinos and Lake Tahoe. Now, I think of Valley of Fire State Park (you have to go if you’re out there!), the Hoover Dam (traffic jams), and Las Vegas (not the place I thought I’d spend my birthday). The only funny part of our time in Vegas was the fact that we stayed at Circus Circus Hotel and we got lost trying to find our room on the 8th floor every time we entered the building. The fountain show was impressive, but lacked bright color. Everything else I will try to forget.

Let’s end on a more positive note. The rest of my birthday I celebrated at Death Valley National Park. Birth, death… kind of ironic? How strange that such a desolate desert could inspire so much life into my soul after a deadening day in Vegas.

After setting up camp, I walked through the washes toward one of the many mountain ranges surrounding us. This is where life began long ago in what used to be an ocean. The stark contrasts in just a few hours boggles my mind. I went from flashing lights, loud music, and gambling to a calm grey sky, silence, and meditation. To calm my mind, I thought of some of the ways the world has benefited from having me in it. I was grateful to be alive and sitting on a boulder in the middle of sharp gravel and ragged brush.

Death Valley , the largest National Park in the U.S., is full of many diverse landscapes from sand dunes, salt basins, castles, pastel-colored mountainsides, sharp volcanic rocks, and sandstone canyons. To see it all, we drove 250 miles, just within the park.

I dare say, I am a little tired of driving. This country is enormous, and I didn’t travel in one straight line. I’ve driven over 10,000 miles in the last 5 weeks. Can’t say I’ll do it again, so it has been a special trip. And it’s not over yet!

New Mexico, check. Arizona, check. Utah, so much to explore. Amy and I spent our last few days at a small seed saving farm called Seeds Trust. Their website is http://www.seedstrust.com/ where you can learn about all  the different varieties of high altitude and desert seeds. They’re all really wonderful people who I’m very grateful to for giving us a warm place to stay during the rainy days.

After Amy departed my friend Craig arrived. We drove south to Tucson and camped near Saguaro National Park so he could have a chance to experience warm weather before heading north. Despite the locals complaining it was the coldest temperature they’ve had in years, we enjoyed above freezing nights.

The coyotes howl at night and birds wake me in the morning. We hiked to Wasson Peak in the afternoon so the sun was setting as we came down lighting the hills with bright blue sky above. The saguaro cacti can weigh up to 7 tons and begin growing another arm after 75 years. Being surrounded by plants that are much older than me feels humbling. They have been in that same space for over a hundred years. I have been bouncing around for only 23 years (as of Feb. 1).

Speechless, I stood on the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Tears formed and my eyes stung. My feet felt heavy. The chatter of other tourists dissipated. Are you sure this isn’t just a backdrop for a movie? The pastel colors and snow covered pines looked like a painting. My brain couldn’t process the depth and distance. I closed my eyes and let the tears run down my face. I wipe them with my gloves to prevent freezing. Before opening them I imagined being anywhere but there, but there I was towering above the steepest drop off.

Edward Abbey writes in Desert Solitaire, “Standing there, gaping at this monstrous and inhuman spectacle of rock and cloud and sky and space, I feel a ridiculous greed and possessiveness come over me. I want to know it all, possess it all, embrace the entire scene intimately, deeply, totally…”

When Craig read this out loud in the car on our way to Moab, I immediately could relate. I notice whenever I arrive at a new place, I feel this greed, excitement, and rush to do it all, see everything, and get to know the place. Unfortunately, covering so much distance doesn’t allow more than a few days anywhere. I can’t really get to “know a place.” That’s not what this trip it about, I’ve realized. And I’m coming to terms with this. My home in Mass is the place I am most connected to, not Arches or Canyonlands.

Yesterday morning I watched the sun poke out of the fog and rise up over a tall red rock. Snow covered the ground and the top of Mt. Lasal was hidden beneath the clouds. I meditated on living in the present. Letting go of all negative thoughts and appreciating being outside of the car finally. No loud car motors humming or helicopters charging through the canyons. Just me and the bright sun, amber rock, and crisp air.

I’ve been on the road for almost two weeks with Amy. We have woken up in new places every day watching sunrises in pure awe of how beautiful this world is. Our most commonly used words are, “What? Really? Is this really happening? No way!”

We spent our first night in Indiana, second in Oklahoma, and third in New Mexico. We’ve made it to Arizona soaking up the sun in Tucson and staying with friends at a seed saving farm near Sedona.

Camping in the mountains is lovely when the sun is out, but frigid at night. 14 hours of darkness makes for lots of sleeping and giggling in the tent. Days are spent hiking and exploring the wilderness.

Having the choice to do whatever wherever  every day is a special gift. I feel free and relaxed. A good place to be in the winter. Next adventures will be visiting the National Parks of southern Utah and California.

The air has shifted to brutally cold and the wind is blowing with great force. The winter solstice has come and gone promising longer days ahead. The last two weeks in the cabin were quiet and full of reflection. I spent most of my time nearby the wood stove and in my sleeping bag thinking warm thoughts. When the time came to pack my belongings, bring Oliver to a friend’s house, and say goodbye, I was ready.

We were milking only once a day, the last two weeks, which left me with a very relaxed schedule. Saturday was their last day of milking. It is time for them to rest and grow babies.  I only hung 13 balls of cheese last Tuesday, rather than the regular 40. We began thawing frozen cheese from the summer to make up for the decrease of milk. All the goats were off of alfalfa and getting used to a strictly hay diet for their winter pregnancies. The baby goats began to blend in with the adults and follow their regular feeding routine in the morning. Solomon, the buck, is spending the next month with the girls to make sure all have been bred. He knows best. We’ll leave that up to him.

The annual “Office Party” was over a week ago. 35 alums, interns, friends, family, and employees attended this wonderful evening full of fabulous food, a silly Yankee swap, and lots of CHEESE. Rubiner’s in Great Barrington provided the platter of goat, cow, and sheep cheeses from all over the world. All but two were divine. Warning: stay away from bright orange cheese that smells like old socks. It might ruin your palate.

I am very appreciative of how lovely the community is in Monterey. I have made many wonderful connections with people of all ages who are willing to open their hearts and minds to me. My first inclination is to refer to it as a ‘learning community’ since this is where I happen to be doing an internship, but when Susan declared how happy she was to be surrounded by farm family during the party, I had to agree. She has built an enormous family through her farm welcoming many different people from all over. It was a pleasure finally meeting some of the past interns and alum.

I will miss the farm this winter. I said goodbye to Susan about four times having to remind myself I’d be back in March. As I was driving home, I stopped to get a muffin at the general store where I ran into her again. It was like I just couldn’t leave. So, as I walked out the door, I turned around and shouted, “See ya’ in the morning!” But, unlike most days, I did not see her in the morning, nor the next, or the next. I got in my jam packed car and  drove to my parent’s house.

I need a break and will use the time well. After celebrating the holidays with family in New Hampshire, I will spend a week at home in Northampton visiting friends and preparing for an adventure driving cross-country. Will I keep posting this winter? If I am inspired, then yes. It sure won’t be about the farm, but it’s hard to take my mind off of agriculture and people, so there’s a good chance I can come up with something. At least I’ll put up some photos of the Southwest for you to ooooh and awwww over.

Until then- happy holidays, stay warm, and thanks for reading.

Walking home from milking the goats tonight was very peaceful. Snow crunched under my boots and flakes brushed my face. All was quiet. Everything seems to stop when the first snow comes. It’s like the world is pausing to rest. Meditate. Listening to her breath. I think the snow creates a buffer for sound vibrations.

I went to Hawthorne Valley Farm in NY State where Susan presented to a small class of beginning farmers how she started the business. I noticed the group was mostly young women- another piece of my senior thesis about women farmers. Lots of the young farmers today are women, like me. It feels good to know I’m not alone in this endeavor when I’m sitting in a room full of people who share a similar interest. Also like me, they were lucky to be listening to Susan tell her story. It is remarkable, inspiring, funny, sad, hopeful, scary, and surprising all at once. Bottom line- she is awesome. And I am so grateful to be working with her for two seasons in a row.

We moved four young goats over to the herd this week. It’s like graduation. I’m actually really attached to the babies that are now 9 months old, so not really babies anymore. They are getting big and once they start eating the dairy goat diet and are pregnant, they will look like the adults. Mariposa, Shelly, Eunice, and Ursula were the most sociable so we will let them be leaders for the others when it’s time for them to join the herd. Half of the young ones have been bred so there are only five goats left!

Breeding is almost over and I will not miss the stink. However, I did enjoy walking the bucks down and watching how they interact with the does. Their behavior is very entertaining and I love getting to say, “Ugh, men!” when they go around sniffing butts, peeing on themselves, and snorting.

It’s hard to imagine I only have 20 more days left here. Then, I go home for the holidays, visit with family, and get ready for my winter expeditions. For January and February I will be driving cross-country with friends. When else in my life will this be possible? I might as well do it while I can, right? So off I will go…hiking, camping, exploring the wonderful beauty of the American Southwest. Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, California. Ah, the beauty of seasonal jobs when you’re young and don’t have huge bills to pay or prior commitments.

Thanksgiving feels like months ago, but it was really lovely. I had two big meals. One with family and one with farm folk at Susan’s house. Some food highlights are captured below: sweet potato buttermilk rolls, chocolate goat cheese truffles, pecan and squash pies, baked brie with cranberries, stuffing, mashed potatoes, parsnip soup, cranberry relish and sauce, and of course a turkey from Taft Farms.

Another food note is that the garden is still giving plenty. Yesterday in anticipation of snow I harvested carrots, beets, leeks, brussel sprouts, spinach, and salad greens from the greenhouse. I’m eating lots of potatoes, squash and onions from the back room, which stays cool enough so they don’t rot. The fridge is stocked with greens and the porch has buckets of veggies from the garden that like to be kept really cold. I have to keep remembering where all my food is scattered. This reminds me of squirrels burying acorns in the fall. Food storage is tough because each vegetable likes different moisture and temperature levels. Unlike the squirrels, if something doesn’t make it to March or I am tired of eating roots, I can go to the market.

So, life is good. Eating well and plenty. Celebrating with people. Staying warm with the wood stove. Simple.

The water at the cabin was turned off yesterday since it’s getting way below freezing at night. I actually find is quite nice. I make fewer dishes when I cook so there’s less to wash. I have to strategize each meal to minimize messes so there’s less to clean. Surprisingly, it makes life more simple and relaxing. Just what I need. Entering hibernation. Winter. Sure, I can do winter. For a few more weeks…then I’ll go south and escape the harsh months.

It’s that time of year when I just want to eat warm stew, drink hot tea, and read a novel by the fire. Things are slowing down here not only because there’s less daylight, but I’m also more sluggish. I have less energy to start new projects and stay up late with friends. Today I went back to eat lunch after packing cheese even though it was only 11 a.m. because I was cold and hungry. A little beef stew, green tea, and chocolate did me good so I headed back to work on building nest boxes for the hens we’re getting in the spring.

I warmed up and was down to a long-sleeve shirt after raking leaves this afternoon. As soon as the sun hid behind the tall pine trees, on went the jacket, hat, and gloves. Sadly, it was only 3p.m. The darkness creeps up on us. Last night we worked with flashlights for a bit, then used our car’s high beams to let the goats back to the other barn. I think tonight is their last to sleep in the ‘summer barn.’ From now on, they will be in the milking barn where it is more shielded from the wind, rain, and snow.

I look forward to returning to the cabin with the wood stove keeping it at a comfortable 68 degrees. Time to snuggle up with Oliver under a wool blanket and jump into the Jodi Picoult novel I started last night. I hear they are addictive and I’ll end up reading the whole series this winter if I don’t pace myself. So what if I’ve replaced gardening and preserving food with books and knitting? It is practically winter.

Yesterday Susan and I put bigger collars around the young goat’s necks, which are yellow and white, signifying a yearling. Soon they will be bred and move into the herd where they will have to learn to associate with the big goats. I imagine it is like starting a new school where you don’t know a lot of people. At least the ten have one another for moral support.

We also de-wormed the young goats before they go into the herd so they don’t transfer any parasites to the adult goats. And when we dry off the herd we will de-worm all of the goats to make sure they are worm-free for the winter.

All of the adult goats have been breed successfully! Only two out of 40 came into heat again, which means they weren’t bred the first time, so we serviced them again. Come March, there will be a few days of lots of births because we bred 22 goats in 2 days. It was like they all came into heat at the same time.

Now, their milk production is decreasing and we have less milk than during the summer. We have gone to a regular cheese-making schedule and there is a little less cheese. However, the milk has a higher butterfat content this time of year when it is colder, so it takes less milk per pound of cheese than in the summer when the milk was leaner. The cheese is quite rich! Just in time to put on my winter weight.

Other awesome happenings are the field trips we’ve been taking to nearby dairy farms. We’ve been to Old Chatham Sheepherding Company in N.Y. where they milk 500 out of 800 sheep; Coach Farm in N.Y. which produces goat cheeses (hard and soft) from their 600 alpines; Blue Hills Farm down the road from us in Monterey, a cow dairy that sells raw milk, provides eggs, and raises chickens, pigs, and goats for meat to a restaurant in N.Y.; and Ronnybrook Farm in Ancramdale, N.Y. which makes yogurt, ice cream, butter, flavored milks, egg nog, and cheese from cow’s milk.

Standing in the large refrigerator at Ronnybrook last week was like a kindergartener’s dream come true when we were offered to try whatever products we wanted…chocolate milk and blackberry yogurt! I was in heaven…until the dairy wary and sugar rush set in on the ride home. Visiting these farms has been educational and lots of fun, especially tasting all the quality products. I also feel very grateful for the size of Susan’s dairy operation with only 50 goats. Working at a small dairy operation allows me to know each goat individually. It feels more humane giving each animal individual attention and getting to know their unique personalities. It is another reason to support small scale farming operations and ensure their economic vitality.