My dad called me as I was headed out the
door for work to tell me that there were calves in the neighbor's yard and I
needed to check the fences. Sadly, this isn't an entirely unusual occurrence. You
see, the same fluff that makes calves so freaking adorable also insulates them
pretty well against the zapping power of the electric fence. It has to be
pretty dang hot to keep those bouncing bundles of joy contained and safe from
the dangers of the blacktop. And also keep our neighbors happy, because even
though I think calves gamboling around in my flower garden would be the most
perfect photo op ever; it isn't everyone's cup of tea. There's no accounting
for taste, ya'll.
So anyway, I had a lovely morning playing farmer,
fixing fences, and attempting to find all of the cows as they happily munched
their way around five acres of two foot tall grass. While it is true that cows
will "bunch" around a feeder, when they are grazing they spread out man. Regardless, I think they're all there, but a herd of all black cows moving
around where you can barely see them makes it hard to be sure. The IL farm
doesn't ear tag anyone so it is hard to know if they've been counted or not
when I can't see their faces to know who they are.
I got the fence hot, and
rigged it in a few places because I didn't have the tools with me to fix it
permanently. That's going to be tomorrow morning's project. Dad has promised to
teach me how to restring a broken high tinsel (really heavy duty steel wire
that doesn't work like the light duty wire I am used to) section.
Now here is where things divulge from farm life to my
personal beliefs, so if you don't really care about that then I encourage you
to take this cow picture and go with my blessing, or file this one under
knowing your farmer. Either way.
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| Have a Crooky! |
After I finished up with my farming for the morning I
made a decision. A decision that I knew would have some repercussions, namely that it
would make feeding later a bit of a difficulty. A decision that I don't regret
in the least.
I decided to wear a maxi dress and jacket, and I believe
that EVERY person other than Captain America had something to say about it.
Please note that I still hadn't done my hair, or worn make up, and this thing was
like the yoga pant of the dress world.
What I did not anticipate was the barrage of questions: "Why are you so dressed up?" "Who
died?" "That jacket doesn't go with that." "You can't work
in that." "You're overdressed for feeding aren't you?" This and
comments like them, from at least eleven people.
My inner monologue had a field day. "Because I wanted to mess with your world view." "I'm
actually my own evil twin." "I wanted to spend all day defending my clothing
choices." "It was hot." "It was easier than trying to find a clean pair of jeans," as most of mine have some sort of marking on them whether it is a stain from
the cows or from farm equipment repair. "I just got the dress and I delight in
it." "I just wanted to?" "It is coral, so I probably wouldn't wear it to a
funeral." "Overdressed? Pioneer women pulled plows in dresses, you know." The list
goes on and on, but it raises the question, why do I have to defend my choices?
As long as I am not indecent or breaking any policies on
my dress, of course. If I was running around like Lady Godiva on a four wheeler
I could see someone stopping me and asking what made me make that particular
clothing choice for the day. (Ease of cleaning by the way, that is all I can come up with. Or maybe a severe mental break...)
I just wrote about my realization that I was a farmer, and you
know nine times out of ten I dress like one, but I am also a grown woman who
likes to wear something that flows around my ankles when I walk every so often.
So what if I have to hike it up and tuck in in my bra to make it a mini and keep
it from getting puppy prints on it? That's my prerogative.
I guess what I am trying to say is this: when did it
become our job to judge one another, and not just delight in each other and the
unique qualities that we each bring to the table?
I think that goes far beyond clothing choices too. I am
PASSIONATE about what I do, and how I think that livestock should be raised;
but I have to appreciate what other farmers do and why they make the choices
that they make when it comes to their life and livelihood. Grassfed beef, free range
chickens, and organic gardening are clear choices for me, but I don't have to
bring anyone else down to bolster that belief.
I'm not sure all other farmers could rock a coral
maxi/mini dress and muck boots, but I can; and similarly to my beliefs about the
food industry and animal husbandry I respectfully refuse to apologize and make
excuses for that, even while acknowledging that it isn't for everyone.
Now, if you don't mind, I am going to go spin circles in my flowy skirt to Taylor Swift's "Shake it off" and see if the cows try to eat it.
