Find the March 2021 newsletter here
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What on earth happened to me that could affect such strong and recurring memories over a decade later?
A more appropriate question is what in earth influenced my mind so powerfully?
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My goodness, if that’s the whole philosophy backing sustenance production, then maybe we really are forever doomed to be on the brunt end of hick jokes passed around more urbane classes of society.
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Our stumbling block in the local economy is convincing 31,411 people to downgrade or eliminate something they want – superfluous gadgetry – for something they need. Another way of saying this is we need people to want our food more than they want a phone.
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We’re born with the need to be together. Surrounding ourselves with people we trust is, among other things, an act of protection, a coagulation of wisdom, an amplifier of ability, and a membership card to the human race.
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According to writers, the lure of the beef is its flavor. Consider this quote from Yi Wah Roberts, the mature-beef-obsessed farm visitor I mentioned at the outset of this article: “I remember the smell and the look and the way the fat melted – as opposed to sticky fat, being a smooth, pleasant fat … The flavor is just absurd.”
Sounds good, doesn’t it?
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If a cow is forced to consume inadequate feed due to drought conditions or some other factor, she’ll survive the drop in energy by utilizing fat reserves stored on her body. As fat reserves are depleted, the sole mission of her body is to return body fat to an optimal level and reestablish equilibrium that enables successful breeding, foraging, and mobility.
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I do not doubt that ‘science is real,’ as proclaimed by so many yard signs sticking about urban regions. There is, however, an ache that creeps into my heart when I observe such devout public adherence to the revelations of scientists. If science is the path to credibility, whose science do I believe?
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A property border, however, does not eliminate the opportunity to migrate, nor do the confines prevent us from accessing the freely replenished bounties of nature.
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It was not the settling of new land that enabled Native American tribes to flourish in fecundity; rather, it was the ample rest provided to land abandoned.
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When the situational equation was balanced, the answer became clear: I was the help.
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A glorious rebirthing of routines accompanies the changing seasons. As I walk the meadows, building fence and tending my herd of cattle, the looming adjustments make themselves known first as subtle hints, Nature’s way of reminding me that soon enough I won’t be doing what I always do. Described here are some of the markers.
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By specializing farms, we’ve cherry-picked a fragment of an ecological whole and concentrated it, thus removing any benefit of a complete ecosystem. As a result, farmers fail to take advantage of the free resources surrounding them in abundance on their home place, choosing instead to rely on an industry of suppliers. That’s like ignoring a dump truck load of money in the back yard while walking out the front door to ask a banker for a loan. In order to take advantage of nature’s freebies, we must trade spreadsheet efficiency for natural effectiveness.
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The Ballad of John Henry is a folk song about a strong, hardworking “steel drivin’ man” who could swing a hammer better than any other man on the work crew. John is admired as a hero, and, when his legacy is threatened by the introduction of a steam drill, he challenges the job foreman that he can drive more steel than the fancy new machine.
In classic folksy man vs. machine style, the steam drill breaks down and John Henry does indeed win the contest. Listeners are satisfied by the outcome; we all want a reminder that people are significant. The song is not yet over, though:
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I categorize myself as a beef enthusiast. The food is an obsession of mine: I raise it, read about it, study it (both on the hoof and on the plate), and eat it as many times per week and per day that I can. Needless to say, my life is an endless conquest for the ultimate steak.
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Creativity cannot be taught. It must be won, torn out of our minds in desperate moments when proper procedure is exposed as a ghost and abstract ideas become a possibility.
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By accepting distress, I can operate the baler very effectively using my own abilities. Inside a soundproofed cab, I felt vague and disconnected, clawing at my ears as if the motion would somehow clear an obstruction.
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Picking a specific animal out of a mob, then convincing the chosen steer to walk through a narrow gate and into a new location is a misunderstood form of art.
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Glory, glory, friends. It's a winner. That steak was tremendous. I didn't eat anything else; steak ruled the evening. And the evening was good.
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