A Love Letter to Farming

People often comment that I must have the best life.  I make my own schedule.  I work at home.  I live the idealized life of the perfect homesteader in the Garden of Eden.  And, they are 100% right about 50% of the time.  Just like everything else, farming is exhausting, exhilarating, a kick in the stomach, a flutter of joy, and most of all, something that changes from day to day.

Let me tell you a story…

Eevee was born last July on one of my busiest weekends of the year.  When I found her lying in the pasture, she was perfect, except for her one little leg that wasn’t laying at quite the right angle.  How did it happen?  I don’t know.  She could have fallen wrong as she was born, she could have been stepped on.  As a farmer, I have learned that sometimes my control of a situation is limited and that laying the blame at my own feet in these situations is often pointless.  So, I held her tight, so she wouldn’t move and with the help of my dad and instructions from our vet, we made a cast for her.

I told her that day, “Life is rough, little one.  If you make it, you get a name.”  The prognosis wasn’t good with infection being a real risk. 

So, Eevee and I started a journey.

I spent my first weekend with her, teaching her how to suck on my fingers, so that she would learn to feed from a bottle.  I fed her every two hours to get her to eat and washed her leg daily.

After three days, Eevee came to live in the fenced in yard next to my house and was hopping around energetically on her three legs and cast.  For three months, I washed her leg daily, fed her at least twice a day and gave her meds to beat infection and pain.

There were many days that I thought she wasn’t going to make it.  Not that she ever seemed less than a peppy, happy little calf.  It was my own fear as a farmer that I wasn’t doing enough or that in spite of all my efforts, it wouldn’t be enough.

But it was.  

After approximately 4 weeks in the cast, we took the cast off and Eevee was free!  She still hopped on 3 legs for a while, but then she began to walk and finally run.

There is nothing quite so satisfying as watching a 3 month old calf run like the dickens on a leg that was broken only a short time ago.

At four months old, Eevee joined the rest of the herd with a fully healed leg and a tendency to follow my four-wheeler around the farm regardless of electric fencing.  She is weaned off the bottle and happily living on hay, grass and sunshine.

I check on her often, give her an extra neck rub, and thank my lucky stars that everything I did was enough.

Eevee single-hoofedly taught me more over those months than many of my other animals.  She taught me the power of perseverance, the grace of forgiving my own mistakes, and re-affirmed in my mind the value of caring for my animals and land to foster health and happiness.

And this is why farming is beautiful.  Not because farmers live an idyllic lifestyle…

Because farming is getting down in the dirt, pushing through the hard, loving the land and the animals till they are a part of you, and at the end of the day, being ground, hammered, and formed into a better person by the experiences and nature around you.

I am so lucky to be a farmer.