Kate and I are entering our fourth week as North Carolinian farmers (Cane Creek Farm) and I’m finding new things to learn every day. I must have foolishly thought farming wouldn’t be that hard to wrap my head around, but it’s the most complex thing I’ve ever been a part of. This is due largely to the fact that our farm is extremely diverse and ecologically aware. While making high quality food we are also maintaining high quality for both the land and the animals we shepherd. This is particularly difficult considering our scale. We have 13 species of animals: several hundred cows, several hundred pigs, 4 donkeys, 30 goats, 30 sheep, 200 turkeys, 100 ducks, 400 chickens, 30 guinea hens, 8 geese, 3 dogs, a dozen or so cats and 5 permanent humans (several transient). In addition to the multitude, we have each animal in all stages of life, from day-old turkey polts and piglets to a 13-year old goat named Mary. Each animal has specific food, water and shelter needs as well as unique personality traits that make them easier or harder to provide for.
The healthy animals are all relatively straightforward once I understand their needs, which they try to communicate with quacks and grunts and chirps. But we don’t only look after the healthy, we also try to care for the runts, the sick and the weak. Last monday we had a day-old pig, a three-week old chicken, an adult rabbit and two week-old turkeys in our ‘infirmary’ living room. They were all in distress (an extremely unusual day to have so many hurt animals) and all got the attention they needed. That day the pig stood out, however.
Van Gogh, the day-old pig, was born into a thunder storm with his siblings in the middle of the night. Born outside a hut and in a rainstorm, all his siblings died from the elements and from two black vultures who sometimes attack small live animals in distress. Van Gogh survived, unbelievably, after losing his ear and a the skin on his hind leg. He is one week old as of yesterday and doing better every day. He’s not out of the woods, but after surviving his first night, subsequent fly-eggs and infection, he’s finally starting to put on weight and act like a little piglet. He sleeps near us in a box with a heating pad and drinks goat milk I collect from our very own Rosie. Her kids didn’t survive but her milk still gets put to direct inter-species use.
One day a new employee or guest might go feed the pigs out in the pasture and realize one large male that seems oddly friendly compared to his cohorts. Like me she will understand the importance of love and compassion on this farm when that earless pig nuzzles her leg and and stands next to her while the others keep their distance. I meet animals like that amongst our hundreds on a daily basis and they increase the feeling of completeness I sensed from day one.
