Time is now defined as the "before" and "after" days. Remember when a trip to the supermarket was routine? You could pop into your car, walk through crowded supermarket aisles, breathe the same air as fellow shoppers, and checkout without fear? Friends, that was just a few weeks ago! Hopefully, the rate of new infections will soon go down. Eventually, life will return to normal, but will we ever want to go entirely back to "before"?
These are crazy times: schools closed; a toilet paper famine; staying home. It's sort of like a hurricane without the hurricane, or a snowstorm without the snow, except to add insult to injury we did get snow on Monday. A significant difference between a weather disaster and our current pandemic and is that a hurricane or snowstorm comes and goes in a day or two. The end of this is not even in sight. Sheltering in place on the farm with my cows is more of a pleasure than a requirement.
It's hard to imagine running out of food in three days, but I suppose it could happen. While the current crisis probably won't keep trucks off the road, what if field workers stay home or meat-cutting plants close? Would the trucks have anything to deliver? Happily, in New Hampshire, we can provide some locally raised meat that is not dependent on cross-country trucking.
I was a vegetarian for five years, mostly because I didn’t want to support massive feed-lot operations which corral 150,000 cattle or more and can process 3,000 a day. I didn’t have any plan to save the planet from beef. But I did – and still do – want to save cattle from CAFO (Confined Animal Feed Operation) systems. Then, we bought two Scottish Highlander cows to keep our fields clear of brush, which is when my cow addiction started.
Do you ever wonder if you should buy a quarter, half, or even a whole beef? Besides the upfront cost, it seems like a lot of meat to store. Those are good questions but maybe you should ask, how can I afford not to stock up. Perhaps buying meat you know is better for you. Here are 7 reasons to help you decide.
We started with ten laying hens and a rooster. At night the flock would roost in the small chicken house, and during the day, they'd wander around the barnyard. Most of the chickens would deposit their eggs in the layer boxes in the chicken house, which made the eggs easy to find. Life was good until the "great chicken immigration."
