Morning on the Farm

From 2011 New Mexico

I start my day by rolling myself into child's pose beneath a pile of blankets on my sleeping pad. I reach my arms forward towards a new day and consider the various aches that have taken up residence in my limbs since yesterday. The first warm sunny afternoon that found us clearing brush , leaves and grasses from a long stretch of irrigation ditch, with Chris's Father and son baling the piles as soon as we heaved them up. My arms and back aching from the quarter mile of raking and piling. I toss back the covers and clear them from the floor. Air mattresses rolled away I lay down a yoga mat and mold my back into cat and cow, upwards into downward dog and so on willing my muscles to release and prepare for the morning that lies ahead.

I come out of a back liberating plow pose and ask Rob if he has eaten yet. He looks up from the computer screen and says no, offering to make us oatmeal and matte. I get dressed and snuggle up next to him over a steaming bowl of oats with raisins and maple syrup. Together we watch Democracy Now and share through film the celebration that pounds in the hearts of thousands of Egyptions who after 19 days of protest ousted their unjust leader Mubarack. We place dishes beside the sink, feet into boots and bodies into layers of warm wool and step out into a brisk morning. Rob heads out to the hay barn to gather breakfast for everyone and I load milking pails, udder butter, clean rags and vinegar water onto the milking wagon. I push my load around the straw bale house and through the paths of chickens and ducks towards the milking parlor stopping en route to gather up a few handfuls of chicken food.

I open the North facing door of the milking parlor and wheel in my milking wagon, then close the door behind me. Grabbing the container of chicken feed mixed with grain I open the South facing door which leads to Reina's pen. Her warm chocolate eyes turn to meet mine as she peacefully chews the hay Rob brought for her. Then she sees the container I hold in my hand and immediately beelines for the parlor. I give her a small taste, then quickly urge her onto the milking platform. She hesitates before sliding her head between two 2x4's but the treats prove too strong a temptation and she passes her great brown head between them and I slide them together and lock them in place so her head can't be pulled back out if she changes her mind. Once she is secured on the milking platform I pour the remaining treats into a small trough along with a handful of hay, and open the North door again so Reina can look outside. Content for now she resumes her favorite hobby of eating and I run a brush through her cafe con leche colored coat to remove straw, hay, hair and any other debris that could fall into the milk pail.

Reina's beauty treatment continues, her udders being cleaned with rags I wet down with vinegar water. I rub the swollen curves of her heavy udders and freckled pink teats until the rags I use fade from white to dirty brown. Lathering my fingers with udder butter I place a plastic garbage pail lid beneath Reina to drain the first bit of milk from each teat and to drain completely her infected right rear udder. A steady stream flows from each one except for the infected udder which struggles between the passing of clumps of pus that are flushed out with each steady pull. We don't drink this milk, it will be used to soak grains which will be fed to the chickens. Chris tells me that in commercial dairies these precautions aren't heeded and because of industrial practices many cows carry these infections and much of commercially available milk has pus in it. (Don't worry, it's pasteurized!)

After I drain this udder completely I reserve the milk in a bucket for the chickens and replace the garbage lid with the milk pail. I nuzzle my head into the soft brown curve between hip and wide expanse of belly, wrap my fingers around two teats, and begin the slow steady process of filling my bucket stream by gentle stream. A steady rhythm lays its beats into my pail and for a while we are both lulled by it. Reina chews along placidly watching the chickens that peck their way past the open door, and I rest my head against the sounds of her gurgling belly and the splish splash of milk in my slowly filling pail. Just when I think it couldn't be going any more smoothly I hear Reina fart.

Cow farts. Funny? Yes. Worrisome? Tambien. Her tail goes up and I use this opportunity to remove the milk pail from beneath her udders and pour the milk I have accumulated so far through a filter into a milk urn, while behind me Reina plops a big green poop onto the parlor floor. I sigh, replace the pail and resume our milking rhythm, turning my head to gaze out the south door where I spot three chickens kicking and pecking in the straw, on the hunt for insects and spilled grains. Beyond their black and white speckled feathers I watch the goats grazing from their trough, which at one time served as a wheelbarrow. Rob is standing their reaching his arm through the fence and scratching Snowflake's cheek and neck, which she loves. I feel the streams of milk getting thinner and thinner as they pass through her udders. Gradually the milk stops flowing and I pass my fingers over each of her udders in turn to make sure she is milked down completely. Reina moos and shuffles her hooves signifying that she is getting antsy, I moo right back at her in a low song like way and once more lift the milk pail from beneath Reina's impatient curves to filter the last of the milk into the urn placing the filter into the empty milk pail and pushing the urn lid snuggly in place to keep this sweet warm cargo from spilling over.

My hand pulls the long bolt out of the secured 2x4 which falls to the side and Reina withdraws her eager head from between the brace. Her brown eyes fixed on me she cautiously steps her hooves backwards off the milking platform until she feels the give of straw beneath her, where she makes a wide turn and lightly steps her hulking form through the door into her paddock and the warm morning sun. I bring a bucket of grain and corn out to her and pour it over her hay which she promptly begins to eat with appreciation.

After some good neck scratches I return to the milking parlor closing the door to Reina's pen behind me. I check to ensure everything on the milking wagon is secure before lifting the handles and pushing it's one wheel over the threshold, and past curios hens who enter the parlor in my wake to scavenge for fallen grain. The milking wagon clangs and jostles over dirt, bumps, gravel and finally the ramp leading up to the house. Dirty udder rags are hung to dry, udder butter and empty vinegar bottle replaced on their shelf. Milk, still steaming in the cool shady side of the house, is poured through another filter into tall glass mason jars for us to enjoy. Empty urn, pail and filter are washed thoroughly before returning to their rack to dry and wait for the evening milking.

As for me, I carry the fresh warm milk to the 15 watt solar powered fridge, chug the last of my now cold tea forgotten on the table, and head back outside to face the next tasks of the day.

Aña Marjenka
February 2011
Albuquerque NM

Enjoying New Mexico despite Wisconsin Weather

Keeping ourselves busy in New Mexico has let three weeks slip by quickly. We entered NM right before Aña's golden birthday on the 28th of January. After checking out the Roswell alien scene we were able to make it to hot springs for her b-day. We had read about the hottest hot springs in northern NM just outside of Las Vegas (NM!). With a wonderful couch surfing host secured nearby, we soaked to our hearts content. There was a nice cluster of three tubs near a small river overlooking the campus of the Montezuma World School. The tubs ranged from 98°F to 108°F. The morning of her birthday we awoke super early and made it into the tubs a half hour before sunrise. A wonderful way to start the day.

We actually had great weather too; stripping down to t-shirts during the day. We spent our non-soaking time reading adventures of John Long and exploring Las Vegas. Several factors make the town quite charming. First, there are trees, which were absent in the barren lands around Roswell. Secondly, many buildings around town and especially around the town square still have a retro or colonial look. It was also pleasant to sense a general “laid-back” vibe to the people. Many locals speak Espanglish, which I found entertaining to listen to. It was common to hear sentences and even parts of sentences alternate between Spanish and English. A heavy local slang makes it a little tricky to understand. There is also 14th and 15th century Spanish spoken by some of the decedents from Spanish immigrants of the conquistador era.

After two nights by the Montezuma Hot Springs, it was onto Taos. The downtown area was shockingly touristy. We noticed as soon as we began entering Taos that all the buildings are made to look like Adobe, even the McDonald's. It wasn't long before Aña coined the term “faux-dobe”, or fake adobe, for this this facade based architecture. We explored to kill time hoping to hear from a couch surfing host. With darkness and the desert's cold night approaching we decide to make way for a nearby hostel. On our way we stopped by a natural food store and eyed up the bulletin board. We notice that a sweat lodge ceremony was scheduled for the very next morning. In need of some spiritual consoling and a good sweat we decided to make it our next day's activities.

After awaking in the congested hostel we did some cleaning as part of our lower price bargaining. Then we bought some fruit as an offering to share at the sweat lodge ceremony. We found the house on the outskirts of Taos where the ceremonies are held. We almost decided to abort after meeting the woman who would lead the ceremony and upon realizing we were the only ones attending. I am so very glad, however, that we decided to see it through. It was one of the most beautiful lodge ceremonies I've attended (out of five to date). Aña is working on a more detailed and poetically expressed account of the experience. That will be posted shortly!

With Couch Surfing hosts still not replying we were a little frantic trying to find a place to stay. We had contemplated camping before learning temperatures would be dropping to 1°F that night and snow was expected. Amazingly, word reached a friend, of a friend, of a friend who was happy to take us in. Kim and Kelly were a friendly hippy couple that put us up for three nights. We hadn't planned on staying that long, but we were snowed in! We received about 9” of snow and night-time temperatures plummeted to -25°F; below zero. Still, we managed to visit the Rio Grande Gorge and check out some Earth Ships. The Earth Ship structures are incredible, but require massive amounts of labour.

We fled south to Santa Fe only to find more sub-zero temperatures. Luckily we had warm company making friends with wonderful Couch Surfing hosts. We had some frigid hikes around the historic downtown, but relished our time conversing with our hosts. Great conversations about traveling and community building. Two nights in Santa Fe and it was time to head to Iron Wood Farm just South of Albuquerque.

Now, we've been at the farm for just over a week. We found the farm through W.W.O.O.F.; world wide opportunities on organic farms (see link on the right of this blog site). We've been staying very busy getting trained to preform the basic routine and help with miscellaneous projects. Twice daily we feed and water the goats, sheep, cows, ducks, chickens, and Aña has been milking the milk cow, Reina. We've also fixed frozen pipes, rebuilt a chicken coup, modified the green house, cleaned out ditches, put up fences, hauled scrap materials, and butchered a sheep. At night we've been spending our time hanging out with another wwoofer here, Phil. We became instant friends with Phil, a Poli-Sci, major, while ranting about global politics and doing some exploring.

Morning Rant

It has thus far been hard for me to find “direction” in this life. I'm talking about direction in terms of a stable career, acquiring a house, family planning, etc. The “direction” or lifestyle that seems to be the socially acceptable standard or goal. I have to guess that it's been hard for me because I accept a different framework of reality. To live a blissful life pursuing the “American Dream” standard of our society one must assume a lack of change. That our current social institutions will be fairly similar throughout our lives. That the sources for our education, our retirement, our energy, our food, and our income will always be there. Most people seem to blindly accept this and continue their socially standard lifestyle.

My rational framework, however, has been unable to accept that drastic change is not due. I can simply not rationalize that the foundations of our society and current lifestyle are going to continue much as they have. The life supports and fundamental needs of our industrialized lifestyles are coming to an end. The energy source that has become the backbone of our world is running out. This is a widely accepted fact, but with with an unknown date it is commonly brushed aside. It is common sense, at least to most fifth graders, that a non-renewable resource is non-renewable. It runs out! It's only a question of when. Well, this is a subject of endless debate. After reading many books, and viewing several documentaries on the theme, it seems we're already experiencing the affects of a diminished supply. Just keeping tabs on world news lends support to this train of thought.

Maybe you're thinking “no big deal”. Oil runs out, fine. Civilization flourished sporadically for thousands of years before we used oil. Well, maybe this would be fine if our current global population was that of 1-3 thousand years ago. The use of oil allowed our population to grow exponentially. Without listing the numerous ways oil is essential to our way of life, we only need consider food to realize an oil deficient impact. As is the subject of many books, articles, and documentaries, our food system is dependent upon a readily available supply of oil. The fertilizers, pesticides, machines for planting, machines for harvesting, trucks for shipping, machines for processing, refrigeration for storage, packaging production, trucks for distribution, and your car to pick it up at the supermarket are all dependent on easy access to oil.

So now, without massive changes to our infrastructure and lifestyles, the current populations will be non-renewable. Unfortunately we're not talking a small change here. If no miraculous technological super energy source is expeditiously invented, and if extraterrestrial beings with superior knowledge don't intervene, the implications are scary. To return to a stable population without the oil infrastructure, we're looking at a population reduction 10 times WWII every year for the next 75 years. For those of us who learned history in public schools, that's roughly 100 million a year, for the next 75 years. In other terms, that's a population reduction of almost three times the entire population of California (the most populous state in the U.S.) gone every year.

First, as they are right now, food costs will rise. Eventually the whole web of oil dependent food production will not be cost effective or even viable. If this happens suddenly, we'll really be screwed. Imagine no more food being produced and shipped to your local grocery store. The food in that store will generally only support its surrounding population for a matter of days or weeks. Are you prepared to grow your own food? Do you even live in a climate where you can grow your own food? Do you think you would be able to grow enough to support yourself, your family? What about those around you? What about surviving it things turn violent? These are the questions people in our society will be forced to ask, but should start asking themselves now.

For a nice clear explanation of Peak Oil and some of it's implications check out the first site that appeared from all knowing google! The search words were simply "Peak Oil, Population".