But there are upsides to being closed for the winter. The biggest one is the downtime. Running a farm is a labor of love, but make no mistake, it is real labor and it is often exhausting. There is also always that element of dealing with the public that can be similarly exhausting, and occasionally downright unpleasant, although by and large our customers are the best! But, at least for me, the biggest upside is the butchering hiatus. This afternoon, we will process our final batch of chicken for the year. Chickens, for me, are hardest because it is the only animal we process without the assistance of our processor, Hirsch's Meats, because small farms can qualify for an exemption to USDA inspection if they do less than 5,000 birds a year. So while I help load a cow or sheep, I miss the blood-and-guts part, which makes it easier. Although I do understand that we raise these animals for a purpose, and we can't celebrate the birth of little ones without facing the other end of the circle of life, it's hard not to get attached to critters you see grow up. With chickens it is easier, because the Cornish-Rock hybrids we raise are quick-growing industrial hybrids that are physically unable to live long, healthy lives, and who seem to have personality and inquisitiveness bred out of them, for these are not qualities sought after on factory farms. Compared to my colorful, interesting laying birds which have their own social life and are a near-constant source of entertainment if you pay attention, the broilers are bland. That being said, they are living creatures whom I have cared for since they were downy yellow chicks. While I am proud of giving them a good life and as quick and humane a death as possible, and also proud to provide our neighbors with a source of chicken that is healthy and humane, it is still not a pleasant process.
W e are down to just 3 more Saturdays before the farm stand season closes for the year. A total of 5 more open-to-the-public days. It's a mixed bag for me. I look at many of my customers as friends and look forward to chatting with them when they stop by. The stand gives weeks a rhythm- not only days we're open, but when I go to Hirsch's to pick up meats, when we butcher chickens ,when I pick things from the garden and what days I'm canning. And of course, there is the financial aspect of, well, making money. In many ways, winter is a quieter time and a time to be more of an introvert- working on crafts and hobbies and living (even more) frugally, since the income stream can be very sporadic. But there are upsides to being closed for the winter. The biggest one is the downtime. Running a farm is a labor of love, but make no mistake, it is real labor and it is often exhausting. There is also always that element of dealing with the public that can be similarly exhausting, and occasionally downright unpleasant, although by and large our customers are the best! But, at least for me, the biggest upside is the butchering hiatus. This afternoon, we will process our final batch of chicken for the year. Chickens, for me, are hardest because it is the only animal we process without the assistance of our processor, Hirsch's Meats, because small farms can qualify for an exemption to USDA inspection if they do less than 5,000 birds a year. So while I help load a cow or sheep, I miss the blood-and-guts part, which makes it easier. Although I do understand that we raise these animals for a purpose, and we can't celebrate the birth of little ones without facing the other end of the circle of life, it's hard not to get attached to critters you see grow up. With chickens it is easier, because the Cornish-Rock hybrids we raise are quick-growing industrial hybrids that are physically unable to live long, healthy lives, and who seem to have personality and inquisitiveness bred out of them, for these are not qualities sought after on factory farms. Compared to my colorful, interesting laying birds which have their own social life and are a near-constant source of entertainment if you pay attention, the broilers are bland. That being said, they are living creatures whom I have cared for since they were downy yellow chicks. While I am proud of giving them a good life and as quick and humane a death as possible, and also proud to provide our neighbors with a source of chicken that is healthy and humane, it is still not a pleasant process. This afternoon will be the final time we process chicken in 2015. In a way, I wish we had a few more to do next week or the week after, as the last batch has had so much interest that I had to stop taking orders and most likely won't have any extra to sell over the counter Saturday. The first and last batches always seem to sell out, even though this year we raised more chicken than ever and had a surplus most of the summer, I still find we are short as folks look to stock up for the winter. But, in reality, there is only so much I can do and I only have so much refrigerated space. Dan built a chicken-plucking machine last winter that has made the processing much quicker and more efficient, and we were able to do roughly double the number of chickens we did in years past. I have much less work to do on chicken processing day, just cleaning up a few feathers and doing the quality inspection and packaging. Although my hands still smell at the end of the process, it's not nearly as bad! But there is no escaping the fact that you are taking a living creature, watching its blood drain out and the light fade from its eyes, and turning it into food. It's not pleasant and it's not fun. When folks ask why my chicken costs so much, there are a number of correct answers- it's the true cost, not lowered by government subsidy; you're paying my time to care for these critters every day, at least 2x per day without fail, no matter if I don't feel well/it's a holiday/I'd rather be doing something fun with family & friends; quixotically, feed without antibiotics and growth-enhancing chemicals costs more; and you are paying me to take the blood off of your hands in the most literal sense. I do not wear a rubber apron during this process for a fashionable look. While the chickens spend 10-15 seconds in the plucking machine which removes a majority of the feathers, other than those fleeting seconds, this is a streamlined process but not an automated one. While there is a kind of detachment you develop- it's not healthy to cry over every bird- in my opinion, you can become too detached as well. I think it is important to remain sensitive enough to your animals to butcher with gratitude, to be humbly thankful for the bird and its life, and to hold yourself to as high a standard of treating them in their final moments as you do their first. While some customers are inevitably disappointed that we do not continue to offer meat in the months where growing vegetables is not practical, for me it is important to have that break, that time where nothing has to die.
2 Comments
robin
11/17/2015 08:00:34 am
So often the people who condemn hunting are the very same who go to the store and gladly purchase pork chops or rump roasts and never think about the people who must kill the animals so that we can have dinner. I think you're right that having that job requires a certain detachment but too much detachment is not a good thing. Thank you, and thanks to all the people who do the "dirty" work for the rest of us.
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Emily Stevenson
11/17/2015 10:05:13 am
Thanks for your comment! I have faced customers with that mentality as well, and it's a hard one to overcome. I've had folks who refuse to buy ground beef from me, because my cow had a name and a story. They prefer to get it from a big chain where they are encouraged not to think about where meat comes from, to pretend it grew on some pink styrofoam tray tree if they prefer. The unfortunate side to this is that my cow had a great life- clean, well cared for, with a family herd, plenty of room to run and a natural diet. Every day but the last was pretty darn good. The other meat? Well, a pound of ground meat can have parts of 200 cows, increasing the chances of foodborne illness, and these cows were crammed into a feedlot shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other cattle, with manure knee high or worse, no shelter from the elements, eating a diet that would literally kill them if they were not slaughtered first. There is a huge human cost to that system as well- low wages, long hours, dangerous work that results in lifelong injury far too often. But all those costs are hidden. So I'm grateful to you for reading, and for engaging in this conversation, because we really can make a difference, one farmer, one eater at a time!
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AuthorEmily Stevenson is a real life farmeress and artisan and chronicles her experiences in food, farming and life here. Archives
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