Auction: Seeking Jersey Cows {part 7}

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“I don’t know, I think I panicked,” Josh confessed, “we’re running out of options.

I looked up to see one young cow that looked to be mostly Holstein, if not full blooded Holstein went for $400 more than we’d paid for our two cows combined.
That felt good.
We watched as bred heifers were brought out. If Josh had changed the plan mid-stream to bid on Number 153, maybe he would decide we should get some bred heifers – we had the cattle trailer, after all.

He declined.
I was anxious to meet Shadow, who was back in her stall as milking chores were starting.

We headed to the “office” to pay for our purchases, feeling slightly high on the good feelings of finally having two cows!

After paying we made our way to the barn and looked for our new girl, Shadow. Josh observed as the machine milked her and noticed that her quarters didn’t finish evenly. No worries, we knew we’d be hand milking, at least at first. We talked briefly about the need to have Shadow bred soon and how we could go about doing that. We needed to look into artificial insemination options. We also pondered how recently she’d been treated.

“Let’s see if we can find the farmer to ask about her being treated,” I suggested.

We made our way back to the auction trying to decide who the farmer was. We spotted an older couple with a younger woman with them off to the side.

“Is this your farm?” we asked as we approached.

“Yes,” came the reply.

“We just bought Hope and Shadow to start our small family dairy,” we said by way of explanation, and in an attempt to reassure this family that these cows would be well loved.

“When was Shadow last treated?” we asked.

“Monday, so you should get her tested before you use her milk,” the farmer said. Josh later pointed out that this was probably emphasized so we couldn’t come back and say: “you didn’t tell us…” as the milk she was giving was already being included with all the other milk the farm was producing, as we observed while she was being milked.

“Do you know if she’s bred?” we asked, knowing that she was about due to be bred.

The farmer pulled a small notebook from his back pocket, each page marked with a different cow’s name. On Shadow’s page he found what he was looking for.

“Yep, she was bred on Wednesday,” he replied.

We did some quick back counting and realized she’d been bred on Josh’s birthday.

“Was she bred to a jersey, or …?” Josh asked.

“Yes, good sire,” the farmer answered proudly and confidently.

Whew.

One less thing for us to do in the next month or so.

The calves were being brought out into the auction ring, all legs and nerves.

The younger woman started to cry a little.

“We knew this day would come,” the farmer’s wife and the woman’s mother responded comfortingly but not looking sad at all – maybe happily resigned?

We moved away from their moment and went to find Shadow.
She was being milked one more time at her familiar farm and we were feeling more wary of her than she was of us as we examined her up close.

Feeling satisfied with our inspection (feeling that it somehow did something) we went to arrange how/where/when we should get the trailer to the cow shoot.

We were the first (and only as far as I could tell) truck and trailer up to the cow shoot (excited much?).

After some convincing the cows moved into the noisy trailer (noisy because they were walking on fairly metal flooring with minimal wood shavings) we were on our way.

 

What have we done? We have to milk Shadow all by ourselves TONIGHT!

Why We Choose Organic Feed

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We chose to switch to organic grain despite it’s drastic price increase (it’s about twice the price of conventional feed) even though we aren’t certified organic after our first season of farming.

While all of our animals are pastured, chickens can only forage 20% of their nutrient needs from grass. The rest needs to come from seeds, bugs, food scraps, etc. We offer our pastured chickens table scraps, sprouted oats in the winter, and any grubs we find in the garden in addition to grain.

We were becoming increasingly concerned with gmo products in our food system. We had no trouble tracking down antibiotic fee grain but conventional grain is not guaranteed to be free of gmo inputs. Furthermore conventional grain growing practices in all likelihood include pesticides and/or herbicides which then enters into our food system as well as entering our waterways and sterilizing the soil the grains are being grown on. Ideally we would grow our own grain or work closely with another farmer where we knew their growing practice were in line with our environmental and community goals. Without this option we knew for our family and our farm it was important to use organic grain for our birds. We support our community by providing the highest quality food items and this is one other way we raise the bar on the quality of food we can provide to our friends, neighbors, community.

Auction: Seeking Jersey Cows {part 6}

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We peered into the barn to get a look at which cow was coming next.

And then it was her turn.

Daisy’s!

“Go high,” I said to Josh. I didn’t want to lose her.

The bidding started.

The auctioneer pointed to someone in the crowd acknowledging the start of bidding. $700.

Josh nodded indicating he would take it to $800.

$900, their bid.

$1,000, our bid.

“Go to $1,300,” I whispered to Josh.

$1,100, their bid.

I realize the woman next to me is bidding – “we’re bidding against you!?!?” I ask in disbelief. She nods with a smile but stays focused on the action.

$1,200, our bid.

$1,300, their bid.

“Go higher, a little!” I whisper frantically.

“SOLD!” is shouted and the woman whispers next to me “$1,325 and she would have been yours.”

We lost her.

I’m in shock, slightly, but also maybe relieved.

It was so exciting getting caught up in the moment and we didn’t really need a $1,300 cow, even if her name was Daisy, I mean Daisey.

We have to refocus. We really want to go home with two cows. We already have Hope, which feels great, but we would like one who is already milking. It’s hard to pass up on the other cows that are due around the time that Hope is, but we want to ease into this milking thing.

In comes a few other cows were not interested in, Holsteins, or currently dry.

We’ve lost our focus and there are only two cows left that will work for us.

A rusty colored girl comes in, currently milking, treated recently, number 153.

We hadn’t even squeezed in next to this girl to get a sense of her temperament. But she’s almost our last hope for a cow currently giving milk.

I’m on the fence. We’d passed on her in our meeting of the cows because of the “T” on her hips. I didn’t think it was worth dealing with a cow who had been treated. Not only would we need to arrange having her milk tested if the treatment was very recent, it also indicated a cow susceptible to mastitis.

Josh started bidding.

I couldn’t stop him, in my surprise.

I glanced at the “catalog” – her name was Shadow.

He kept bidding.

The fight for this Number 153 was not a hard one and we soon realized we had bought her.

“What were you thinking? What possessed you?” I asked half in jest.

He looked sheepish, which was appropriate.

 

Did we make a mistake in buying this cow?

Are we certified organic? Or certifiable?

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This is a question we frequently heard over the past year:
“Are you organic?”

This is tricky because the quick answer is: “no”, the long answer is better.

Our animals have access to the outdoors whenever the weather is suitable; our ruminants (cows) are out on pasture at least 120 days a year; we don’t use antibiotics*, growth hormones, or gmo’s; we do not use chemical pesticides or herbicides; we work to improve our soil fertility, etc, etc.

But we’re not certified.

After much mulling we’ve come to the conclusion that organic certification is necessary for items a consumer purchases without the opportunity to meet their farmer. This often happens when we, as consumers, purchase an item from the grocery store, deli, restaurant, etc.
However, when a person is in direct contact with their farmer and the farm they choose to purchase their food (and other) items from, then that person has the opportunity to assess the farming practices being used to determine if the farm is one they feel comfortable buying said items from.

This is why we encourage friends, family, customers, everyone to research, research, research. Determine what you feel comfortable eating and drinking based on your research. Then, if you have the option and desire to visit a local farm – go! Observe the farming practices there and choose for you if this farm is one you are comfortable purchasing your food items from.

And we encourage YOU to come to our farm today, tomorrow, yesterday (any day but Sunday) to see if our farm is one that works with your food philosophy. We can’t wait to meet you!

* If a cows health warranted antibiotics we would proceed as recommended for the cows health and safety. Given our limited use of such medications as humans and our attentive care to our animals, we have never had to make this decision. We feel strongly that above all the animal’s health is our priority, which we understand may necessitate antibiotics when the animal’s life is at stake. This is what organic certification requires, however, animals given antibiotics are no longer considered organic.

Auction: Seeking Jersey Cows {part 5}

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{for part 4}

We found seats, in the third row – also the last row.

I was reassured to see a handful of people waiting – we weren’t the only ones enthused about bringing animals home.

“Boy, they could have put a tent up or something,” a weather-written man commented not unkindly.

“Who could have known?” someone responded, “it’s been so nice all week.”

Truth be told, it had been unseasonably warm for the last few weeks and I’d packed away our winter coats with jubilee.

“Did you know it’s actually 5degrees warmer today than the average for this time of year?” a third person chimed in. Minor murmurs of amazement sprung up. The white haired gentlemen continued: “It just feels so cold today because we were spoiled with that warm weather.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, lost in thought, I’m sure, of gardens already prepped, thanks to the unexpected mini-summer, for the warmer weather sure to come closer to its normal schedule.

“I see they already have their cattle trailer over here,” someone else said, indicating the large cattle trailer we noticed when we first found our seats. The rest of the group chuckled quietly.

“Makes a nice windbreak,” a matronly woman said, “I’m glad they agreed to park it there.”

It became clear that the owners of the cattle trailer were not presuming they would go home with a trailer full of livestock, although that wasn’t out of the question, they indeed had parked their trailer in an effort to cut the bracing wind.

Again the conversation ebbed and smaller groups of people began conversing about various topics, but mostly the weather, as any group of farmers is wont to do. We took this opportunity to refer to our blue slip of paper, now well scribbled upon with various notes to ourself.

We again wondered, do we skip over that one if it comes out first and hope we get the other one we really like? Or do we just bid on any of the cows we’re interested in as soon as their turn comes up. If the cows came in numerical order it would mean we could bid on … but if the cows came in a different order, say all the dry cows first …

Thankfully our mulling was brought to an abrupt halt as we suddenly realized the auctioneer and his colleagues had arrived and the crowed had swelled to about 30.

Now the real fun.

They didn’t come out in numerical order.

We soon realized they came out most favorable to least favorable.

We passed on Sweety and Baby – both fetched prices beyond what we wanted to spend, especially early in the bidding. Hope came out about a third of the way through bidding. Her charcoal coat appealed as did her big brown eyes. In comparison to those that had come before her, her splayed back legs and saggy bag were even more noticeable. There was minimal bidding.

Perfect.

We bid.

We were thrilled.

We won. And the price was better than we thought possible.

“Congratulations,” said a kindly woman with a mop of short brown curls sitting next to me.

“Thanks!” I said, beaming. “We’re so excited, this is our first cow, and it’s going to be a family cow, we just moved to our farm, and it’s great.” I rambled on without taking a breath, excited to share my enthusiasm.

“Oh! That’s great!” the woman responded. “We need cows giving milk NOW. We just put in an additional 18 stalls in our barn and we need to fill them.”
“Oh cool,” I responded. “Do you have mostly jerseys?”

“Yes, and Holstein crosses,” she answered.

Another cow was brought in.

We had our dry cow.

Now on to the currently milking girl.

We passed on one, then another.

 

Should we be happy with the girl we got and go home or wait to bid on another one?

Auction: Seeking Jersey Cows {part 4}

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{for part 3}

The auctioneer started with several boxes of small items: four harnesses (we bid and won), three pitchforks (we bed and lost), a metal snow shovel (we bid and won), an artificial insemination kit (we didn’t bid), and more. When the auctioneer moved on to a hay elevator, still attached to the hayloft, he suggested the bidding start at $500. Five minutes later the elevator sold for $85. I don’t know anything about hay elevators beyond the fact that they are loud and move heavy square bales up from the hay wagon and deposit them unceremoniously in a pile in the hot hay loft during haying in the heat of the summer. I have no idea what one should expect to pay for such a piece of equipment. I made a crazy guess that day based solely on the fact that the auctioneer started bidding at $500: the person who bought the elevator got a hell of a deal, even if the elevator did require removal from its current home. The auctioneer moved on to other equipment and suddenly I was interested. What other unbelievable drops in bidding price would occur. Sadly, the rest of the equipment was not nearly so interesting and as a result I was reminded again of how cold I was. I suggested to Josh that we should move to the back of the barn in anticipation of the real excitement: bidding on our new cows! He suggested we’d be warmer if we stayed with the crowd of people. I was not convinced but agreed to stay standing, resisting begging for his hat and stomping my feet to keep warm. While the last tractor was being fired up, the wheels turned, the machine moved back and forth – presumably to show its value and to distract from the puffing black smoke coming from its vertical exhaust which may or may not have been a concern to those interested in such pieces of equipment – I convinced Josh that it really was time to go find a seat. I was certain that the number of people in the crowd far exceeded the number of seats we’d seen on our way in and I was convinced that everyone was there for the same reason we were – cows, and namely, Daisy. I wasn’t certain sitting on a plastic seat, presumably cold, was the wisest move in my quest for warmth but I wanted to find a satisfying auction bidding location before all the machinery-interested people turned their attention to the cows (and mostly Daisy, of course). We made our way around the long side of the barn, pacing ourselves, knowing that the livestock portion was still minutes away and moving was better than standing still. We also didn’t want to seem to anxious. Or anything else contrary to whatever experienced auctioneers would be. Turning the corner at the end of the barn we saw a large cattle trailer parked perpendicular to the barn at the far corner. “Guess they’re being efficient,” Josh commented, “and assume they are going to bring several animals home.” This could only do one thing: increase my nervousness.

{part 5 here}

Farmers Market: overheard on retiring chickens

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“What do you do with your chickens when they’ve stopped laying?” a well dressed woman asked us one week at the farmers market.

I knew what she didn’t want to know, so I cowardly answered: “We don’t know yet, this is our first year farming and we just got our chicks in the spring, they won’t stop laying for at least another season”.
I felt Josh try to interject here but I focused on the woman’s next question and resisted kicking Josh under the table.

“Well, what will you do with them?” she pressed. “Will they get to live out their life after they’ve done laying, have a nice retirement?”

“We haven’t really thought of that,” I answered – coward, coward.

“Actually,” Josh jumped in, “we did get laying hens from another farm and we processed them for stewing hens when they were done laying last fall.”
I tried not to give him a dirty look.

“But we don’t know what we’ll do with these ones,” I assured the woman.

“They won’t just retire on your farm to live out their natural lives?” she asked, slightly shocked.

I was at a loss and shrugged. She walked off.

“What?” I asked Josh who was definitely pointedly looking at me.

“I just think we should be honest and play out the scenario of retiring chickens on our farm with her. If she wants to spend $15/dozen on eggs, then sure, we can keep non-producing chickens on until they die a natural death. It costs us to keep chickens on our farm, we should have explained that to her.”
“Yeah,” I agreed kicking myself for wanting to please, “or if she was willing to have them retire at her place …”

 

Anyone interested in retired hens?

Auction: Seeking Jersey Cows {part 3}

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{For Part 2}

We thanked him for his information and continued assessing our options. We wrote lists to organize our preferences: Hope and Gabby were due at the end of June. Perhaps Cee could go in that category because she was due in July, but she wasn’t yet dry (cows are typically weaned off milking a couple of months before their due date). So we wanted to get one of those three and then bid on a cow currently being milked. Our options were Daisy or Sweety or possibly Heidi or Baby. But Daisy was our (okay, my) top choice, and then Sweety.

We then began discussing the possible order of bidding. What if Sweety was brought out before Daisy? What would we do? Maybe they’d come out in numerical order. Daisy was 131, Sweety 152. What if they didn’t bring them out in numerical order.

It was getting close to 11, the start of the auction.

“Did you get your bid number from the office?” someone asked us. When we shook our heads he directed us to the “office”, a table set up in the machinery shed. There we also discovered a table set up with women selling chili, coffee, hot dogs,chips, an anti-farm-fresh smorgasbord. Thanks to the roaring grill it was approximately 1degree warmer inside the uninsulated shed that boasted one ginormous sliding door opened as wide as possible and leading directly to the porta-potty.

We gave our required contact information, still feeling uncertain about what was involved with an auction, and collected our number: 314.

We wandered back outside, it was still cold. The biting wind was lessened mildly by the surrounding buildings, but I was still regretting not bringing a hat.

“The auction will start soon,” a small man with a black hat boomed into the microphone. “We’ll start with the machinery out here and then move around back for the livestock portion after.” I checked our clock. Still 10 more minutes and I was frigid. I also was not interested in the least in the machinery.

Groups of chatty farmers milled around, greeting friends and catching up – a rare treat for the often solitary farmer. Intermixed were tell-tale black broad brimmed hats of the Amish. I watched as these men, some with long beards, most without, laughed and chatted in wonder. My interest in the Amish lifestyle began after reading a memoir of a couple who lived among an Amish-like community for 18months. So much farming wisdom and knowledge is held in communities like these and I wished to think of a way to engage in their community to learn.

“Okay folks, we’re going to start the bidding here with this small stuff and work our way around and end with the tractors,” we heard the auctioneer announce.

Finally, we’re getting started. We made our way over to the smaller items grouped together in cardboard boxes.

The auctioneer put away his microphone and continued socializing with his colleagues. I checked the time. Still five minutes.

The crowd was thickening which made me a little nervous.

What if we didn’t get Daisy?

{The auction finally starts in Part 4 and I manage not to freeze!}

Farmers Market: overheard on delicious eggs

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Pastured Eggs in The North Country

A tall curly haired gentleman arrived purposefully at our table, bike helmet under his arm, backpack slung over his back, and a matching offspring at his side.

“I’ll take five dozen eggs, three extra large, two large,” he said handing over an impressive stack of empty egg cartons.
I tried to conceal my surprise at the amount of eggs he was requesting, never mind his apparent means of transportation.

I thanked him enthusiastically and crossed my fingers that the eggs would remain intact on his way home via bicycle, with a older child following behind.

 

During the next market a woman arrived with neat brown hair and glasses requesting five dozen eggs.

“Do you know the man who got eggs from us last week and was riding a bike?” I asked.

“Oh yes, that’s my husband,” she replied smiling.

“I was surprised at how many eggs he bought – riding a bike no less!” I explained.

She laughed. “We go through 3 dozen eggs between markets in our family and we also buy a couple dozen for my mother,” she said.

 

Over the next couple of months we enjoyed seeing one or the other at our table on market day. They commented on the beauty of our eggs and their exceptional taste. We glowed and tried to act modest.

 

During one of our last market days before our move to Saranac, it was the woman who visited our table requesting her usual five dozen eggs.

“Is it true?” she asked, “my husband was saying at dinner last night that you were moving?”

“Yes, it’s true,” I said. “It’s sad to leave the friends we’re making at the market but we’ve decided that it would be best for us to buy our own farm and the perfect property became available in Saranac.”
“Well, congratulations!” she replied. “It’s very sad for us, we’ve loved getting eggs from you but I’m so happy for you. It sounds like a great opportunity.”
We smiled a little sadly at the thought of losing this relationship and thanked her again for choosing to get her eggs from us.

 

Reflecting back on this exchange I realized an amazing thing: we were becoming part of the local food fabric and we elicited conversation at a relative strangers dinner table. This is amazing.

Auction: Seeking Jersey Cows {part 2}

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{For part 1} When the kind man returned with the “catalog” it was nothing like I expected.

was surprised to hear there was such a thing as a catalog because I expected it to be a thick manual with glossy pictures and fully complicated details on every livestock and piece of equipment – like a catalog JC Penney would put together if they were in the business of selling cows and farm machinery. Instead we were handed a piece of blue paper with a grid on it providing information on each cow in the barn. One side listed animals numbered 126-157 and included the animal’s ear tag number, its name (they were named!), when it last freshened (calved), when it was bred (if applicable), and for a few the cows due date was listed. The other side we saw was labeled “HEIFERS” (cows are not called cows until they have calved for the first time, before this time they are called heifers). We quickly realized our focus was the cows numbered 126-157.

We started methodically checking each cow. We found that while they were listed in numerical order on the “catalog”, they were not organized this way in the barn. We pulled out a pen and crossed off every cow that was clearly part Holstein. We decided we wanted a cow that was expecting relatively soon, and one that was currently milking, hopefully already bred. We found more than one cow that we loved but both being due months from now – around the same time, we didn’t like the idea of being overwhelmed with two cows worth of milk at once.

Dash, Fay, Emma, Hope, Gabby and Rosy were all dry. I looked to see how low their bags (udders) were, how long their teats (the part you grab to actually milk) were, how straight their legs fell to the ground from their hips. I sent Josh between the cows to test their personalities. It was important to us that we have a friendly easy going cow. We found that Dash, Fay, Emma were all nervous seeming. We recognized that this was an incredibly stressful day for the cows. Cows like routine. If you change things up it makes them pretty nervous. We knew this. Gabby, Rosy, Emma and Hope were all relaxed, even with the increased activity in the barn as more bidders arrived. Emma and Rosy were both were expecting calves within days of the auction, according to our blue sheet. In fact, Josh thought Rosy may have already freshened (calved). Emma’s rib and hip bones were even more prominent that the other cows and with her expecting so soon we decided that was a responsibility we weren’t ready for yet. But if she was going for the right price at the auction, we’d consider her. Gabby seemed perfect, although I wasn’t too excited about her name. Hope seemed older, her bag was big and uneven, her feet splayed. She probably wouldn’t go for much but she was perfect for us.

Heidi and Baby had both freshened in December and were both open (not bred back). Heidi had a tumor which could be a concern but maybe it would make her go for less too. Baby was sway backed, maybe she would not be popular as a result. Both passed the “personality test”.

Maybe Sassy would be a good idea, she had been bred back in February giving us a big cushion until she calved and a cow that was currently being milked.

Little One was not so little, and we wanted a smaller cow.

Shadow had a ‘T’ on her hips, presumably meaning “treated” for mastitis – we didn’t want to bother with that.

Ashley had the perfect name, it being my sisters who was less than pleased with the idea of cows in the world, but she was way too jumpy.

Then we saw Daisey. A beautiful tan gentle soul with big brown eyes and her name was Daisey (okay, so it wasn’t Daisy, but it was close). I wanted her. She was the one. She had freshened in February meaning she only recently calved so was being milked and we could choose who to breed her with when we were ready. I loved her.

When we noticed Sweety we saw she had all the benefits that Daisey offered, except her name was Sweety, not Daisy (I was going to change the spelling of her name, of course).

Then we thought we should look over all of our options again and organize who was going to get preferential bidding action on our part.

Noticing a gentlemen who looked to be in his mid to late 40’s putting down hay, adjusting this or that, talking to the cows.
And then he started talking to us: “This isn’t the first herd I’ve had to see go,” he said sadly.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said suppressing my excitement about our newest additions to the farm and remembering again how common this sad story was – a farmer losing his farm.

“Yeah,” he continued, “I used to have a herd of my own, we had to sell it. Now these cows. I try to come and help down here whenever I can and these are great cows, they’re well loved.”

“I noticed they were all named,” I said, encouraging him to tell more.
“Oh yeah. Roger and Kathleen love these cows and they named them all,” he said. “The cows know their names too. You call them by name, they’ll come.”
“We’re hoping to get a couple of family milk cows today,” Josh said by way of explanation and perhaps to reassure the man that the cows would be well loved with us too. “Do you think they’d be okay with hand milking? Are they gentle enough?”

“Definitely,” the man replied with enthusiasm. “You wouldn’t go wrong with any one of these cows. All gentle and friendly.”

Who do you think we should bid on?

For {part 3}