Tag Archives: agriculture

Facing my Fears; Screaming for Help

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(As promised in my previous blog, I found the column in which I mentioned Big Red … it was published in June 2008 in the Daily Globe’s Today’s Farm edition. Since Big Red hasn’t made it into the Farm Bleat, I’ve decided this story is worth repeating here – it’s a perfect way to cap off the 2011 version of National Agriculture Week!)

June 2008: I remember well the day I learned to fear the massive four-legged beast.

I was about 10 years old, teaching my goat Princess how to walk with a lead rope in the cattle pasture when, all of a sudden, I heard these thundering footsteps behind me.

Just as I thought my little Princess couldn’t possibly make that much noise I turned around to see Big Red, my oldest brother’s 4-H steer, with his head down and charging right for me and my goat. I dove for cover in the wooden hay manger while screaming for Princess to run — run for her life.

Princess survived. As for me, well, I was scarred for years — 27 years — and still counting.

For you see, I tried to face my fears just a few weeks ago only to find out that yes, I’m still terrified of cattle.

It all began with one of my dad’s three, nearly-market-ready Jersey steers chewing on a piece of blue tarp that mysteriously appeared in the cattle yard one evening.

After we had finished supper, I noticed the tarp was left laying at the top of the hill in the cattle yard, and the three steers were off in a corner, lazily chewing their cud.

Aha, that’s perfect, I thought. I can walk through the cattle yard, pick up the tarp and get out without possibly disturbing their rest.

Yeah, like that would happen.

Just as I bent down to pick up the tarp I realized I had company. I turned around in time to see all three steers within about an arm’s length of me. Then and there I knew I wasn’t going to escape the situation.

My first instinct was to shake the tarp and, in a barely audible voice, yell “Shooo.” Unfortunately, that excited them.

I managed to move about five feet — to a large tree stump I thought could be used for protection. Instead, it became a trap as the three steers moved in.

By this time I was seeing images of my lifeless body pinned against the tree stump. After they rammed me against the wood, I envisioned falling to the crusty ground and being trampled to death.

My body shook — except for my legs. I couldn’t move my legs.

Again I shook the tarp I was clutching in my hands. This time, one of the steers put his head down and kicked up his back legs. He took a step closer, and then another step.

And then … he stuck out his tongue and licked me — from my elbow to my shoulder!

(Did I mention these steers have sort of a pet mentality — thanks to my nieces and nephews who shower them with attention and have even given them names?)

So, there I stood — steer slobber on my jacket sleeve and still too terrified to move. I looked to the kitchen window, where I knew Mom would eventually see me flailing my arms. First, Mom hollered out the window, “Are you OK?” “No,” I shouted. Then she came to the garage door. “Do you need help?” she asked. “Yes,” I shouted. “I’m scared!” Mom walked out to the cattle gate, from where she told me to just starting walking toward her. I couldn’t move. “Come get me,” I pleaded. And, as I hope any parent would do, she came to my rescue. When she was finally by my side, Mom took the tarp from my hands and shook it at the steers. Oh boy, here we go again. The steers got all excited and kicked up their back legs. To them, this was some sort of game and we were the pawns.

“Take a run for it,” Mom said.

Yeah right. I should mention here that I was wearing Mom’s garden clogs — clogs that were two sizes too small for my “Buntjer-gene” big feet.

In the end, Mom took me by the arm and practically pulled my trembling body into motion. She flapped the tarp as we briskly walked toward the cattle gate, with all three steers jumping and kicking and having a grand ol’ time at my expense.

Safely on the other side, my fingers were shaking so much that Mom had to latch the cattle gate.

I took one last look at the cattle, muttered something like, “I can’t wait until you go to the butcher shop,” and headed into the house. No sooner had I entered the living room when Dad put down the newspaper he’d been hiding behind and flashed a big grin … that quickly broke into a chuckle. “What’s the matter? Did those steers scare you?” he asked. Gee, whatever gave him that idea?

Goosed by the Gander

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I’ve been racking my brain to come up with farm tales to share with my online blog readers during this National Agriculture Week, but now in my third year of blogging, I’m running out of personal farm tales that people haven’t already heard.

I was sharing my quandary with a co-worker the other day when she asked, “Well, did you ever have geese on the farm?”

Oh, did we ever!

If you grew up on a farm with geese, you must have a story to share.

I’m pretty sure the year was 1980 — that’s the year my oldest brother graduated from high school. It was also Kevin’s last year in the 4-H program, and he wanted to go out with a bang … something like 15 or 20 fair projects were on his list (including livestock and poultry entries, of course).

That summer on the farm was a dangerous one for a 9-year-old like me, and a lot of it had to do with a Simmental steer named Big Red. I thought I’d written about him before, but since I couldn’t find it in a search through my blog, I may just have to wrap up this week’s ramblings with a blog about the beast that nearly killed me (watch for it on farmbleat.areavoices.com).

At least Big Red was kept behind a fence — the geese were free to roam the farmyard and attack at will. (Notice, I didn’t say if provoked … I wouldn’t do that to a goose!)

The geese were on the farm that year because Kevin thought it would be great to take chickens, turkeys, ducks and geese to the fair as 4-H projects.

Now, geese are very territorial, so we kids had to be careful not to get into their way. A walk to the barn was one thing, but a walk to the barn with a detour to the chicken house was quite another. One cross-eyed look or “na na na boo-boo” at those geese and we were in for a game of tag. The goose was “it,” and we were caught when we, er, got goosed!

I can’t tell you how many times those mean ol’ birds chased me back toward the house screaming “Mommy, mommy — they’re gonna git me!”

Even Smokey wasn’t safe — she was our faithful mutt at the time, and I can still picture her and the geese running in circles. It was rather obvious that she was the one getting chased, and not the one doing the chasing.

As if getting goosed by the geese wasn’t bad enough, we had to endure their incessant honking (more like squawking) and their slimy, messy, everywhere-you-look droppings.

The summer of 1980 … I’m pretty sure it was the summer I never went barefoot down on the farm.

Baa, Baa Black Sheep

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It’s National Agriculture Day today, but more importantly, it’s National Agriculture Week – yes, a whole week dedicated to honoring America’s men and women who work hard to put meat, fruit and vegetables on your dinner plate, milk in your glass and shoes on your feet.

Each year at this time, I strive to write a daily blog (my regular readers have likely noticed my struggles to blog even once a week lately … sorry about that!)

As I was thinking about my tales of farm life to share this week, it wasn’t difficult to come up with an idea. For the past week, my Grandma Elizabeth has been on my mind often. She was moved into an assisted living facility a few days ago, and I know the move has been a difficult one for her.

Once she’s settled, I have no doubt she will like her new surroundings. Grandma, a once strong – and strong-willed – farm woman, has been without her husband for more than 30 years. The oldest of five children, she’s the only one still living. She’s lost family, friends and neighbors, and once told me that it’s no fun to live to be as old as she. She’s experienced a lot of loss, and now, she’s lost the apartment that had become so familiar to her.

Anyway, with Grandma on my mind and a farm tale to write about, I decided to share one of my favorite memories of Grandma on the farm.

The year was 1991. It was my last year in 4-H, my second year at Worthington Community College (which meant it was the last year the farm was my permanent residence), and the spring my dad endured the second of his open heart surgeries.

I had a barn full of goats and sheep to take care of, but thankfully most of the kidding and lambing was done before I was thrust into solo livestock production.

Grandma came from her home in rural Danube to stay at the farm and keep us kids (basically younger brother Jason and myself) company. She loves baby animals as much as I do, and would often join me for the evening chores – if for nothing more than to pet the goats and let the bottle lambs nibble at her fingers.

As I mentioned, it was my last year in 4-H, and I was required to select my show lambs and complete an enrollment affidavit for each of them. This required me to weigh my lambs and pierce their ears with plastic, numbered tags.

Well, Grandma and I had quite the predicament. How were we supposed to weigh the lambs?

I don’t recall just whose idea it was, but we decided to carry the bathroom scale out to the barn (the alternative would have been to carry the lamb to the house … but that would not have gone over too well with Mom!)

Once the scale was in place, we pondered just how we were supposed to get a lamb to not only stand still on it, but do so long enough for me to read the dial and determine its weight.

Grandma’s solution: Go get the steel wash basin, set it on top of the scale, weigh the basin, and then subtract it from the weight of the lamb in the basin.

Her plan worked spectacularly – or at least that’s how I remember it. I think Grandma kept a hand on the lamb so it wouldn’t jump out, and I read the dial and recorded the information.

I’m sure we looked a sight after it was all done – me a muddy mess after first catching the lambs I needed and then carrying them to the basin, and Grandma in her scarf and Mom’s boots getting dirtied by keeping the lambs in their place in the basin.

I remember Grandma and I sharing a lot of laughs that afternoon – especially when she said, “I wonder what your Dad will think when you tell him how we weighed your lambs?”
My response: “He doesn’t have to know!”

I did tell him the story while he was still recovering at the hospital and, though he laughed at our method, he never said, “Well, you should have done this…” or “Why didn’t you…” like a typical dad would do.

Grandma and I … two farm women – two strong-willed farm women – proved we can do just fine with a little muscle, a little brain power, and a whole lot of determination.

A reporter’s conundrum

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As you read this blog, I am either on my way — or in the midst of — another U-Lead Advisory Academy meeting. This time, I’m spending about 26 hours in the metro — that’s if my trusty Greta Garmin can get me to the University of Minnesota’s St. Paul campus this morning.

I’m a little nervous about the drive, and it isn’t just because of the snow forecast. This country chick just doesn’t do a whole lot of metro driving, and when I do, I usually have a co-pilot.

Greta Garmin, my yet-to-be-utilized Christmas present, is taking the place of a Mapquest map reader. Placing all of my trust in technology is, well, perhaps not the best thing. If it directs me to turn on the wrong street, I can’t exactly get any satisfaction out of yelling at it. (At least my Mom will say ‘I’m Sorry’!)

This session marks the nearly half-way point in the 11-month leadership-building program I embarked on last fall with about 25 other individuals from across the state.

So far, the experience has been great. I’ve visited a dairy farm near St. Cloud, toured a U of M swine research facility at Waseca, and — during my visit to Willmar in January — I was impressed by the economic development efforts that have helped transform the former state mental hospital into the MinnWest Technology Campus (not to be confused with Minnesota West Community and Technical College.)

The campus has attracted several agricultural and bioscience-based businesses, from Nova-Tech to Epitopix. In one building, employees manufacture equipment that emits a laser on poult (baby turkey) beaks so the beaks can’t be used as weapons when they’re growing up in turkey barns. Ag Forte at Jackson is just one of the companies that uses the equipment. (I saw it in action during a tour of Ag Forte a few years ago.)

During this U-Lead session, we will be prepping for our trip to Washington, D.C., with a crash course in government leadership. Our group will tour the State Capitol tonight, and follow it up with a visit with our legislators Thursday morning. Fellow U-Lead cohort Jan Fransen, Jackson County Coordinator, graciously lined up appointments for the two of us to meet with Rep. Rod Hamilton and Sen. Doug Magnus.

While I’m sure Jan has spoken with both of them on specific legislative issues in the past, I find myself in an interesting situation. I’ve talked to Rod and Doug numerous times, but nearly all of them were interviews for the newspaper. Certainly, I’ve never bent their ears to discuss a pressing issue.

Prior to this session, U-Lead participants were required to create a 30-second message to deliver to our local legislators on this visit. After much thought, I settled on a message about the state of our Nobles County bridges. As the county beat reporter for the past half-a-dozen years, this issue has received more ink lately — and for good reason. We need funding to replace timber bridges that are quickly decaying. Restricted weight limits are causing farmers in our region to drive miles out of their way to do simple tasks like haul their grain to market. The problem will only get worse once the spring planting season begins.

That’s the message I hope to deliver to our men at the Capitol … although it feels really weird for me to be lobbying for an issue. It’s like I’m breaking a cardinal rule of journalism … the one that tells me to shut up and listen!

Q&A on the Food Safety Bill

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Sen. Al Franken’s office has released a Q&A regarding some of the specifics in the Senate’s version of the Food Safety Act, which was approved on Tuesday. The information follows:

S. 510: Frequently Asked Questions/Myths

Would S. 510 outlaw home gardens and family farms? NO.
S. 510 does not outlaw home gardens or family farms. In fact, the bill explicitly states that the produce standards “shall not apply to produce that is produced by an individual for personal consumption.” In addition, the bill also contains an exemption from regulations for small facilities and small farms, which was purposefully included to protect America‟s family farms. This includes food sold through farmers‟ markets, bake sales, road side stands, public events, community supported agriculture, and organizational fundraisers.

Would S. 510 criminalize seed savings? NO.
S. 510 does not create any new rules in regard to the practice of saving seeds for use from year to year, and does not outlaw, criminalize, or require any specific agricultural or growing practice.

Would S. 510 outlaw traditional organic growing methods? NO.
Section 105 of S.510 explicitly states that new produce safety standards cannot “include any requirements that conflict with or duplicate the requirements of the national organic program.”

Would S. 510 bring everyone who grows any food under the jurisdiction of the Department of Homeland Security? NO.
S. 510 maintains the same food safety jurisdiction that exists under current law.

Would S. 510 include new recordkeeping requirements for farms? NO.
S. 510 does not require that farms keep any new food safety-related records.

Would S. 510 charge farms and small businesses new registration fees? NO.
S. 510 does not charge registration fees of any kind.

Would S. 510 imprison people who sell raw milk? NO.
S. 510 does not establish any restrictions on the sale of raw milk. The bill merely directs the FDA to review existing regulatory hazard analysis and preventive control programs in existence, such as the Grade “A” Pasteurized Milk Ordinance, before creating any new hazard analysis and preventive control rules.

Would S. 510 require American food producers or farmers to be subject to WHO rules, UN food safety standards, or Codex Alimentarius? NO.
S. 510 requires the FDA to come up with a plan to work with foreign countries that import food into the United States to ensure that Americans who purchase imported products can be assured of their safety, but does not require the adoption of any international standards. The bill also explicitly clarifies that dietary supplements remain subject to U.S. jurisdiction, not the Codex Alimenatrius.

Would S. 510 require farms and more facilities to register with the FDA? NO.
Under the Bioterrorism Act of 2002, certain food businesses were considered “facilities” and had to register with FDA. Farms and restaurants were exempted. This definition is not changed in S. 510. If an entity does not need to register now, it will not need to register under S. 510.

Would S. 510 give the FDA new authority to inspect farms? NO.
S. 510 increases inspections for registered food facilities but does not change FDA’s jurisdiction over farms.