The seventy acres of our farm touch the boundaries, borders, property of ten other landowners or farmers. These ten property owners account for thirty or forty persons who represent our nearest neighbors, who we know ranging from close friendship or partnership to the category of not at all. Having neighbors entails certain obligations. Those obligations range from the simple notification that an animal is loose to working together rebuilding fences. We work to keep those obligations from entering into the realm of being “obligated”.
Of those ten neighbors only one is active in farming his land and he is about eighty years of age. The rest of our neighbors derive incomes from the categories of “best not to inquire”, retirement, toxic waste handling, nursing, and the job of no visible means of support.
I was thinking of neighbors and neighborliness yesterday. We were returning from a conference in Louisville, KY celebrating the 35th publishing anniversary of Wendell Berry’s “Unsettling America”. It was our first vacation off the farm together in ten years. That simple act of leaving obligations and responsibilities behind in the care and trust of those thirty-forty individuals, leaving one’s home place, all brought back to me how thoroughly tied we are becoming to this land.
Our drive through rural Kentucky found us focused on fencing, outbuildings, housing stock, livestock, soil health and all of those small things that make up good or bad agricultural practices. We would find ourselves grimacing at good ponds aware of our eyesore of a pond back home which is still waiting for a solution. Or we would smile at poor fencing that clearly suggested lack of practice, something of which we now have plenty. But overall we were studying the land, observing it for hints at how we could steward our land.
We drove back into Tennessee invigorated by the conversations, moved by hearing Mr. Berry read poetry and humbled by the intelligence of the presenters. We came back home with new purpose and plans. We came back home to a steer standing in the front yard, a steer that simply will not stay in a fenced pasture. A rebel steer does not make for good or happy neighbors. He moves your needle from obligations into the red obligated zone. We moved him back into the pasture without real optimism or expectation that he would stay.
And indeed this morning our small herd of cattle was one short, the rebel steer had gone wandering, again. I found him on the highway. After some work we got him up to the barnyard and loaded him into the trailer for sale at the stockyard. But not before we saw him jump a five foot wooden fence from a standing position…without touching wood.
Obligations discharged we were able to turn our attentions to other matters.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Reading this weekend: From the Forest: a search for the hidden roots of our fairy tales by Sara Maitland.
This is the second time I’ve read about how an unmanageable animal of yours was dispatched. I know absolutely nothing about animal husbandry and certainly understand your obligations to your neighbors as you describe them, but I can’t help but feel a little chagrined that animals acting according to their natures can’t be tolerated. I’m not criticizing your decisions; I have no authority to do so. It’s just another bit of sadness at how we humans act in the world.
Brutus,
That is a fair comment. When I started my farm notes 14 years ago I made myself a promise to be transparent. Sometimes that transparency reveals me in need of a bit of fine tuning. And part of that need for transparency was to help readers realize the real impacts of farming on the animals we eat.
Good farming is about control as well as being a good husbandman or steward of our land. And it is an everyday learning experience, and one in which we are still finding the best practices.
I’d point out the obvious that all the livestock have an ultimate end that is controlled by us and for our needs. So whether this steer lived his full span of three years on our farm or was sold at auction at two years the end is the same. While they are on our farm we treat them humanely. These steers spend their lives free ranged and grass fed. But tragedies do happen and sometimes we are clearly to blame.
In this case there are two things that contributed to this steer becoming a problem. Our fencing infrastructure needs work. We are in the process of rebuilding fences on our property. But even a small seventy acre farm has a lot of fencing. Each wind storm brings down a branch or tree creating avenues for escape. Not an excuse but it is an ongoing struggle to stay on top of that fencing. Hopefully by the end of May we will be caught up.
The second is that livestock do have their own animal natures as you point out. We need to “handle” our cattle more often to gentle them which put them at ease when we are around. We both work full time and the cattle are very low maintenance (with the odd exception). But handling or hand feeding does help build a bond. That bond creates less anxiety for the steer when loading, which ultimately is the mark of a good husbandman.
Believe me we wrestle keenly with our consciences over mistakes. On the plus side we do try to learn from our mistakes.
Thanks for the comments, they are appreciated.
Brian
This is an excellent post and question/answer in the comments. Eloquent writing and reflection.
Thanks, glad to get the comment and that you appreciated the writing.