LESSONS OF A YOUNG FARMER: 24/7.
There is a unique component to farming that makes it unlike almost any career I've ever been a part of: it's a twenty-four hour a day, seven day a week job. Sure, I've "taken jobs home" with me before I was a farmer. I've lost sleep over the stress caused by previous jobs, but I've definitely never had to get out of bed in the middle of the night for one––to work.Take Sunday night for example. Or the previous Friday. Or that night last winter when our rooster Ellen was attacked. Or any of the many times we've been awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of a predator with its jaws on a chicken, or the sound of pounding rain smashing all the young transplants we've had sitting in the shade house. These moments send you stumbling blindly into the darkness wearing little more than your muck boots and boxer shorts to take care of your farm. But this is farming. If it were a regular job, you might not get out of bed "off the clock." You will, however, when it's your own, and when you love what you do.And that brings me to the other quality which makes farming such a unique career, that––as cliché as it might sound––it's not a career or job at all, it's a lifestyle. You don't farm because you want to get rich (well, I hope you don't farm to get rich). You farm because you love it. You get out of bed not because you have to, but because you're compelled to. You work hard and don't take days off because you're part of a natural system that likewise works hard, and doesn't know what a weekend is: nature. To farm is to run a business that never sleeps.I didn't catch the predator Sunday night, but I saw it. A small possum failed to get away with a chicken but managed to get away with its life. And I'm sure it will be back... at 3 a.m.... every night... until we catch it. And we'll be ready because as farmers, we know no other way to be.- Jesse.
ATTACK.
We had our first attack on the chickens last night. Honestly, I can't believe that it hasn't happened before - as the ladies have grown fond of wandering through the woods during the day, scratching under leaves and dead trees for bugs. There have been several close calls, mostly with hawks, but last night was the first actual attack. We were listening to election results on the radio in our room, and there was a terrible squawking from outside. A possum had crawled up through the chicken wire on the bottom of the coop and had a tight hold of Ellen. Jesse was able to shove the possum out with a tobacco stick and then kill it. (Sorry for the violence, folks, but that's how this farming life goes. If we had let it live, it just would keep coming back for more....and we love our chickens.) After a midnight coop repairing session, we went back to sleep. Ellen was very battered and bloody, and I felt pretty certain he wouldn't make it through the night.I can truly say that I have never been so happy to be startled awake at dawn by Ellen's squeaky crow. He looks a little rough, but I think he will be just fine. I am so proud of him - he clearly jumped down from his perch to protect the other chickens. What a hero! Here's an old picture of the handsome man....although he has a little less feathers this morning after last nights adventure.-Hannah.