Not all happy cows come from California

6/7:
Even when the curtains are drawn I still know they're there because I can hear the soft munching next to my window. The tender grass around my trailer is all being pulled out at the moment by the 130 cows that make up the Gubbeen herd. I'm nibbling on some oak smoked cheese of theirs as I write this, looking out at the happy cows chewing away at the buttercup-covered field. I'm thinking about the story Giana told me yesterday:

It all happened a few years ago when the Irish drug trade was doing very well (as it still is to this day) in a small inlet just a few miles away from Gubbeen. The drug traffickers had brought a particularly large shipment in to one of the many hidden coves along the coast but just as they were about to reach shore their small dingy capsized, setting huge table-sized bales of cocaine afloat on the Atlantic. After one of them mistakenly called for help, the guards (police) intercepted the call and arrested two of the men. The other men however were nowhere to be found. (This of course is not surprising considering the sprawling countryside with endless shrubs and ditches to hide in.)
Anyway, it was not until about two days after this incident at around eight in the morning that Tom let out the cows as he does every single day. The herd filled the road just in time as two strangers came walking up the road. The men wore funny clothing, hats and wellies, the sort of all-weather gear that sailors would wear.
But luckily, being surrounded by country people here at Gubbeen, a suspicious neighbor had already called in the guards when he saw how clean their wellies were, for these were certainly not farming folk. Within minutes, the guards arrived and the two men who were by now completely surrounded by Gubbeen cows had nowhere to go.
Now that's what I call a civil arrest!!

Rabbit rabbit!

6/1:

My arms and legs ache. Not so much from hard work, but from nettle burns. I spent a good chunk of the sunny (!) afternoon carting wheel barrows full of stinging nettles down to Clovis' compost pile. Rosie taught me to use bruised dock leaves (which always grow together with nettles) to calm the welts but even with this trick I still feel slight throbbing in the affected areas.
The day was a lot less dairy-centric than yesterday because Tom pulled me aside to help with all the animals that had to be moved.
First Rosie, Brennan and I loaded up onto the moto to go pick up a newborn calf in the field and bring back its mom for milking. After heaving the slumbering calf into the back, we had to convince the new mom to follow. We managed to get her started with some cajoleing so we set off down the road to walk the mile of road back to the farm. Despite a lot of cow chasing and near escapes we made it back remarkably quick and left mother and child alone together in a pen.
Next on the list was to move three sows and their litters. First we moved the fierce wild sow with her tiny piglets in with the rest of the wild pigs. The second two moms were easier because they had been put into farrowing crates from the very beginning. After moving the moms first, we chased the piglets around the tiny room and caught them one by one, holding them by one leg as they shrieked bloody murder. After this crazy early afternoon of animals, I went back to weed more nettles before checking on the newest batch of chicks. I had found a few cracked eggs in the incubator in the morning so I sprayed them and waited for a few hours for the real hatching to begin. Sure enough when I went back, three new chicks had emerged and were peeping about the warm interior. One of life's greatest miracles fo sho.

A day of whey

5/31:
My first day was absolutely fantastic. Despite my excitement for work, my jetlag really took over and I didn't wake until around 11am so I started work late (Rosie had said to sleep in as much as I wanted). I went to the dairy straight away and was directed by Eileen to go upstairs to the cheese-making room. I donned a white apron, white wellies, a hairnet and a pair of green rubber gloves before entering through the glass doors. Inside, Eileen shouted out the names of the workers over the roar coming from the big vats of curds and whey but I didn't catch a word so I just smiled and nodded. The room was small and about a quarter of the space was taken up by the two big vats but there was room for about three stainless-steel tables. I was taken up to one of them where I met Linda, a pretty black-haired young woman who was very very sweet. We worked together at the table which was piled high with molds. Our job was to one by none take the weights and the lid off before banging the mold to loosen the cheese so we could flip it over. When the cheese was flipped we put the lid and weights back on and started on the next mold. The women moved quickly but my inexperienced hands worked about half as slow. Nevertheless, in a matter of minutes the whole table was miraculously done! After this I walked back downstairs to la bel all the cheese for a few orders until the second batch was ready to be put into molds. When I was done I again went pustairs where the women were already scooping curds into more molds. I washed my arms carefully from shoulder to finger with warm water and soap before walking over to the tubs and sinking my arm in alongside Linda. The warm yellow whey felt so good against my skin as I fished my mold around to collect the tiny soft pieces of whey. After about twenty minutes of scooping and filling most of the curds were gone so we went back to flipping the cheese. Outside the rain drizzled and two beautiful white geese stood and watched us work as their fuzzy yellow-gray goslings goofed around nearby. After this great morning, the ladies took off for lunch so I stayed behind to eat lunch with Tom, Rosie and Brennan. We ate together for about an hour until it was time to get back to work. Tom took off to finish pouring cement on the roof of Fingal's new house (it's going to be a grass roof) while Rosie went to go weed Clovis' garden and Brennan went to check on the pregnant cows. I headed back to the dairy where I met Derek Darius who vaguely reminds me of a polish version of Manuel from Fawlty towers. He's a funny little man with thick fingers and an even thicker neck who laughs a lot and makes lots of noises to supplement his mediocre English (mediocre is generous). When he first met me, he kissed my hand and just said "from Poland" with a wave of his hand. We spent the afternoon together laughing in "the dungeon" while washing mold off of the wax of the smoked Gubbeen cheeses. After an afternoon of washing and carrying heavy cheese the day was over so I changed out of my boots, apron and gloves and walked back to my trailer (I'll call it Browny?) only to find that the road was full of cows! But no matter, at least the smell of cows is infinitelty better than the smell of pigs.

Gubbeen at last

5/30:
I immediately show my true colors -- when Rosie picks me up we walk up to her little white car and I go straight for the right side. She smiles and I sheepishly walk around to get in on the left side. Kipper the bulldog is in the back and he greets me with a big doggy smile. The drive is nearly an hour and a half but it goes by in a flash for me. We pass countless towns, each beautiful and quaint with cobblestone streets and tiny colorful houses jammed together. I want to stop at each town. Rosie keeps apologizing for the fact that there's no roadway btu I assure her that I ADORE the tiny country roads and little sights we get to see. The radio quietly plays opera and Irish music as we cruise through green in a light misty sprinkle of rain. We finally round a corner and I see ocean, we've arrived at Schull and we pull off the road to see Tom at the Farmer's market. I shake his rouch hand and he feeds me salami with pistachio in it while Rosie hands me slices of Gubbeen. We stop at the stand next door to buy some Irish soda bread which looks dark and hefty. After getting two gourmet burgers at another stand we chew and swallow as we walk the main (and only) street of Schull. There is a film festival going on this weekend so the town is covered in blue and yellow confetti and streamers. We say hi to everyone that passes. In just the one street there are probably about 4 or 5 pubs. Rosie promises we'll go. We pass a bookstore, fish monger, grocery store, pharmacy, health food store and a handful of other stores before we come to the end. We turn around to get the car and then we drive for a few minutes until we get to Gubbeen House. We turn off the main road and enter through a beautiful wooded area that opens up to reveal a fairytale bunch of buildings. More cobblestones cover the ground and 300 year old buildings make it look like I've just stepped into a postcard. I can see why people believe in fairies, gnomes and leprechauns around here.
I take my bags over to my luxurious trailer (with electricity, hot water and even a bathroom!) which looks out to a buttercup-covered field.
After changing shoes Rosie takes me to tour the farm. The smell of cows scents the air gently as we walk the paths until we reach the dairy. The smell of cheese, brine, whey and salt fill the air. We pass hundreds of cheese rounds and I get more and more excited about my first day tomorrow. We meet Rose who comes every Sunday to brine and wash all the cheeses. After our tour of the dairy Rosie takes me to see the animals. A handful of chickens peck around the yard and a huge goose with a shining orange beak hisses viciously at us. Rosie sends a kick in his direction and he quiets down. We pass in to the incubator room where a rucous of peeping comes from dozens of chicks. Back outside peacocks strut about as we walk over to see the newborn calves, ducklings and piglets. Then Tom invites me for dinner and we eat delicious lemon sole, chips, and peas. I meet Rosie's boyfriend Brennan and then almost collapse from exhaustion on my way back home. The door of my trailer has barely closed before I land on the bed fast asleep.

Leche

We never planned to have this much milk but ever since Pinto Bean surprised us by giving birth, we've been milking three cows every day. (And two of them twice a day!) This means that we get around ten gallons of milk coming out every single day (do the math, it's about 70 gallons per week), so as you can imagine we've had to get pretty creative about how to use all of it up.

Drinking it in our cereal or using it to dip our chocolate chip cookies in at lunch, we've also experimented with whipped cream, sour cream, ice cream, cottage cheese, butter, gouda, and a lot of fresh cheese. It sure seems like we've tried almost everything under the sun but I'm so happy because I finally got to make my first batch of fresh goat cheese on thursday all by myself. After adding the rennet and the culture, I even crushed up some fresh rosemary and sage to add a little twist.

(Above, from left to right: fresh rosemary and sage Alpine goat cheese, fresh jersey cow cheese)

8 days

The days are numbered and it's a bittersweet farewell that awaits me in 8 days. In many ways I feel a deep sadness when I think about leaving this entire life I've created -- all my friends (both two and four-legged, and even those with trunks and stems), the ever-changing hills, the familiar noises, smells.

This big change leaves me stressed at times but it's when I finally go to milk in the evenings that I feel most at ease. In the warm barn with the sweet smells of milk, manure, hay, and grass combining in my nostrils I feel completely at peace. I listen to the streams of milk hitting the sides of the pail and rest my face against the soft, warm belly of Pinto, Mapache or Arnica. My arms contract rhythmically, left, right, left, right. Slowly, the world outside the barn melts away.

I know if I measured my time at Full Belly in terms of cow milking, I might see this final week as an adequate time to leave, a graduation of sorts. After my first brief encounter with teat pulling back in September, I didn't really start to milk officially until my second week here, way back in January. In those distant days, milking was not a calming experience. I awaited my milking duties with apprehension and even a bit of embarrassment. I remember pulling at Arnica's bursting udders, only to squeeze out a few drops of milk every so often into the pail. Dru would always take over after her side was done and I would watch in wonder as she withdrew gallons of milk in gushing streams. Months passed and I steadily improved; my triceps became more noticeable and my biggest honor came one day when Dru finally remarked at my skills. But it was really only last week that I finally reached my highest accomplishment, I self-promoted myself to milk all alone. Being up there by myself was the ultimate milking experience when the sounds of the milk, my breathing, and Pinto's soft chewing were really all there was.

It's funny to say this but I somehow feel ready to leave now that I've accomplished this small task. What seemed so impossible at the beginning is suddenly ordinary and very attainable.

Cackles

Today I laughed harder than I have in many months. Squeezed in the back of the pickup my ribs heaved and tears dripped from my eyes as I tried to hold the milk bucket still out the window. Both Rawley and Luke came to help me milk today since I can only milk with one hand and therefore go half as fast. (Although if I concentrate sometimes I can beat him!) With only two and a half people on the way back we didn't have a way to carry the milk since Mapache, Arnica and Pinto together produced six buckets. While Rawley drove carefully holding one of the milk pails, Luke held his bucket out the other window. Me being the smallest I climbed into the tiny back seat of the cab and sat backwards so that I could manage to fit my left hand (the good one) out of Luke's window. All crammed and howling with laughter we slowly made our way back to the farm only to find that we couldn't untangle ourselves too easily...

Plans

As much as I thought I was getting used to this whole "not knowing my next step in life" thing, a change in plans this big still shook me pretty hard. In a fraction of a second, my entire Ireland trip fell through my hands and now I'm facing at least a few weeks of confusion and mystery.

Despite my unsettling change in plans however, I can still find comfort in being at the farm and seeing that life here boldly marches on. It calms me to know that no matter what happens the cows will still have to be milked and the greenhouses will still have to be closed every day. No matter what happens, those bad radio stations will still exist and will still cause my brain to play random songs on repeat all day log (the one that's currently on loop: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=93X2mZ5xT8Y). The world around us can go up in flames but chickens will keep laying eggs, grass will still grow miraculously in the back of the forklift where dust and soil has gathered, lambs will still need to be bottlefed, lettuce will still surprise me with its beauty, and pigs will still squeal when they see me coming with a bucket of scraps.

Eyes.

As promised, a study of the eyes of the farm.

Darling the cow

Spot the sow

A freaked out chicken

Crackers the evil cat

Fern the dog

Neo the goat

Pinto

I sit inside my trailer as the coyotes howl and the pigs grunt outside, thinking about my day. Our prized cow, Pinto Bean, was pregnant today. And I say pregnant today because we didn't know she was pregnant until this morning when we saw discharge starting to come out of her.

After this discovery, the whole day was spent somewhat on edge, with a scout going up to see her every half hour to make sure everything was alright. But I guess our scheduled scouts didn't do much good because it was the crew that first noticed that Pinto was finally in labor. On my way over to the sheep in the little Kubota, I noticed a van pulled over to the side of the road. As I drew closer I realized they were all pointing in Pinto's direction and motioning for me to come over. I pulled up to the window where Pancho told me to run and get Dru to help Pinto who was now standing with great discomfort in the middle of her pen, looking quite miserable.

Only minutes later Dru and I were standing by the gate together, watching Pinto struggle with the baby. After only a few minutes of watching, we couldn't handle it anymore so Dru went in and pulled at the calf until the whole body slithered out onto the hay. With quick movements she rubbed the body, trying to revive it but no matter how she did, the delicate body wouldn't show signs of life. In the end, the tiny calf lay there in front of us as Pinto regained strength and stood up again. It was with sorrow that we watched as Pinto nudged her dead baby and began to lick its entire, limp body dry. With each lick the carcass moved jerkily, flopping around as she lapped up the placenta that stuck to the baby's hind quarters. Her longing moos echoed in the silence of sadness that enveloped us as we watched the scene proceed. As Dru always says, "it never gets easier".

Day 4

To fill everyone in, there are two other interns here besides me: Alex, the 20 year old from Massachusetts and Joe, the 30-year-old architecture student. Right now Alex has two friends, Caitlin and Brian, who are here visiting for ten days. Caitlin is a senior at Barnard this year and the two of us have grown pretty close in this short span of time. It will be strange to see her go since I will then be left in the midst of a boy-dominated world but maybe I will see her next year in New York if she decides to stay there. It’s really fun to work with her because we have a lot in common so we have a good time sharing stories and experiences while we get our work done. Because today was a slow day we spent most of the day cleaning together.

The two boys haven’t done the best job at keeping everything clean since Rachel left so when we arrived the kitchen was pretty revolting (to say the least). Mostly we scrubbed surfaces and tackled the giant chaos of mason jars into a somewhat manageable system. For lunch we provided dessert by baking two batches of mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies. After lunch we took on the even more daunting project of going through the walk in freezer in the crew kitchen. Because this was the freezer that was used for the Hoes Down Harvest Festival back in October, most of the food in there was moldy and complètement dégoutant. Needless to say, it was quite the accomplishment: Dru even gave us five gold stars on our imaginary chore charts. Haha. Though in my humble opinion, we should have gotten more like a lifetime of gold stars.

Apart from the stale bagels, old yogurt, coagulated olive oil, moldy cheese, bucket full of rotting olives, old tahini sauce and nasty ketchup, the most exciting part of the day was without a doubt the cow getaway. In the midst of our cleaning, Cailtin and I were crossing the yard to hose some dirty buckets off when all of a sudden Ushi, Betty and Mapache came tearing into vision. In hot pursuit, Dru came running behind shouting at us to catch them. I jumped at Ushi the calf, who was the only one with a lead rope on and handed her away to be taken back to her pen. With two cows still left to capture, Caitlin, Hallie and I set off down the driveway behind Mapache and her calf. Then seeing that they weren’t going in the desired direction, Paul quickly jumped in the Kubota to herd them toward the pens. Gaining an advantage, Hallie and I then grabbed at Mapache in hopes that Betty would follow her. We struggled against the force of the full-grown cow but Paul confidently took her from us and began to lead her away. With one swift movement though Mapache knocked him on his back and not wanting to let go, he was dragged through the grass. Hallie caught up and took her back, successfully leading her in to the pen with a bucket of grain. Betty followed her mother soon after with just a little coaxing. Moral of the story: now I know I will be very careful the next time I decide to take one of the calves on a walk!

 

P.S. I’m starting to lose track of the days, today I was baffled multiple times by the fact that tomorrow is already Friday…

Day 3

Today I dealt with more animals in the morning. First milking and egg collecting, then feeding animals. My favorite to feed is the little calf (Ushi) who was just weaned from her mother. After milking, we bring her back a whole gallon of her mother’s creamy, fresh milk and she slurps it down in a few seconds. Then she spends a few minutes with her head stuck in the pail trying to lick the last drop from the bottom. After her dose of milk we toss her a flake of hay and she stares at it in disgust. The other calf (Betty) who is two weeks younger, is already proudly starting to eat hay with her mother (Mapache).

The afternoon was spent mostly pruning. Despite the frost that withered all the leaves, the lemon verbena is pungent as ever, almost as good as the wreath room (!).

After the aromatherapy session with the lemon verbena, I spent a few hours in the greenhouse sorting hot chili peppers with the crew. Spending time with them I can really notice how rusty my Spanish has become. I find myself stuck on some vocabulary words that have over the years snuck back into the deep recesses of my brain. (How do you say "hinge" again?) I love their company though -- they know so much about the different scenes of farm life and about the vegetables and fruits. Most importantly, we get to share an integral part of farm life, listening to terrible Mexican radio together. 

No more pie: Part II

It's strange, in some ways it's harder to say goodbye to animals than it is to say goodbye to people. I guess it's because animals are harder to talk to on the phone.