A few months ago I found myself at a Farmerspiel (curling tournament for farmers) in Tweed. My attendance didn't have anything to do with the agricultural theme of the event, but rather my ability to replace a player who was out with a knee injury. My calendar was open and I accepted the last-minute request to get up at 6:30am and lug my curling gear way out into Tweed, the land of farms, a mill, a hockey arena, a curling arena and not too much else.
Curling is as much a sport as it is a social occasion. After every game, the winning players buy the losing players a drink and sit together at a table. Faced with making conversation with complete strangers, after each game the conversation would inevitably turn to agriculture, and my team of city folk would eagerly offer me up as their token farmer. When you're awkward like me, it's never easy to be forced into conversation, but I tried my best to engage in farm talk.
There is one particular conversation from that day that I can't shake. It was with one of our opponents, and he seemed to be about my age. At first glance, we had a lot in common. We talked about making maple syrup and shared tips and tricks learned along the way. When he told me about one of his main sources of income, selling hay, he lamented about an organic farmer who recently made a purchase. While he didn't have anything against organic agriculture, he found it hypocritical that this farmer came to him for hay. The city girl in me was stumped. Isn't hay just long grass that is cut down and rolled into bales? How can that not be organic? At the risk of sounding foolish, I took off my "I'm just like you!" mask and I asked.
There is much that I don't know about agriculture - I admit to being a rookie in many aspects of farming, and I'm used to the look that more 'experienced' farmers give me when I ask questions that give away my naivety. I do have experience though, and with the knowledge that I have gained so far, I'm surprised to have glossed over this part. Pasture that is to become hay is often sprayed with chemical fertilizer. That's why the hay is not organic. And when I thought about it, it made perfect sense. In conventional farming, year after year, the same piece of land produces grass. The grass is cut and removed, and next year it's the same thing. It's resource extraction, and we all know that if you keep taking something, it will eventually run out. I suddenly felt like I was sitting across from someone who was in a completely different industry. Not agriculture, but mining. Removing, removing, removing, until there is nothing left. Of course this guy wasn't mining the land, because that's how the chemical fertilizer comes in to play. As the soil's nutrition decreases, synthetic fertilizers (usually made from petroleum) serve the replenishing function. Animals would then eat the hay that was grown with that stuff and up the food chain it goes. When crazy hippies tell you that your food is made with oil, this is what they are talking about.
I won't get any more political, except to say that it was that interaction that solidified my footing in the organic food movement, and the method with which we will be raising our two cows this year. I don't want to contribute to a system that simply takes away without regard to the sustainability of the process - that's not what farming means to me. Our cows will graze on 3.5 acres of pasture from May to October, moving from one small patch to the next, eating everything before they move on. The key is that along the way they'll be fertilizing the land - putting back a little somethin somethin, if you know what I mean. The process is called intensive rotational grazing, and was pioneered by Allan Savoy. Watch his TED talk if you want to learn about the great things this does for the planet.
A year ago I never would have guessed that I would soon be raising two cows. I hope that in a few years I'll be raising a herd, and that I will continue to distinguish myself from that farmer I met in Tweed.
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